


The Fine Art of the Preposterous

by lori (zakhad)



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7040215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a certain way to go about things.</p><p>This is not one of those ways.</p><p>Some people have to learn the hard way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _… ‘preposterous’ actually denotes the normal arrangement of things, with the front at the front and the back at the back. ‘Postprerous’ might have been a better choice of word but, like head over heels, which also makes no sense, it’s too late to change now…”_
> 
> _\-- http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/put-the-cart-before-the-horse.html_
> 
> __

Picard found that he missed the arboretum, on the 1701-E. Fortunately they (the nebulous ‘they’ responsible for such decisions, anyway) had added more holodecks to the ship to compensate. So when he went looking for his counselor and discovered her on holodeck ten, where before he would likely have found her in the arboretum, he wasn’t surprised -- nor was he surprised that he could walk in, without the computer asking for a code, as sometimes crew would do that, as an invitation to join friends in whatever program was running. It had become more the practice for someone to run a simulation of some cafe, somewhere in the universe, complete with holographic bartender, now that Guinan had gone her way. 

He walked into a landscape of brilliant greens, reds, blues, and all manner of flowers. There was a path up a hillside, right in front of him, and he followed it between large trees -- the crowns of which were covered with trumpet-shaped yellow blossoms, red head-sized blooms, streamers of tiny blue flowers, and just because that wasn’t enough color, there were also trees with great purple bulbs all over them -- to a bluff overlooking a vast ocean. And there on the flat space was his counselor, sitting cross-legged on the ground. 

He hesitated -- but she turned her head, smiled up at him as he approached, and that was enough reassurance. “Good afternoon, Captain,” she exclaimed, as he stopped at her side.

“Where are we?”

“I suppose you’ve not been to Shiralea. Is there something I can do for you?” She rolled, got a foot under her, and stood up to face him. She had her professional face on. 

“As a counselor, no. I wanted to talk to you, though.”

“Okay. Computer, two chairs.” 

Two standard issue chairs materialized behind each of them, and he sat, angling himself to face her. It put her against a backdrop of blue and green sky, with a long beach below her to the left. And it was as though they were in the ready room, or the briefing room, two officers in uniform having a discussion. He found himself looking at the ground next to her chair, instead of at her. 

“You may as well just start. You know I won’t react in a manner you’ll find upsetting.”

He laughed -- at himself, mostly, being this way with her, who had been through the worst of his worst with him. “Well. When my brother died, we had some sessions working through that grief, and regrets that went along with it. That was quite a while ago, and we’ve had a lot going on since… and for some reason lately I think about Robert, and Rene, and it’s not the grief again. At least, not the same grief. More a sadness, that -- that I really am alone, in the universe. There are no more Picards left.”

Deanna’s expression had gone from the pleasant default she usually wore like part of the uniform to one he remembered from too many counseling sessions, a serious, calm sort of regard that he thought must be her equivalent of “calculating.” She nodded solemnly, and shifted in her chair, crossing her left leg over her right and leaning forward a little.

“You want to have children.”

He started to laugh -- he almost stopped, but she joined him, grinning with him. “You don’t jump to conclusions, usually,” he exclaimed.

“You did say you wanted to talk to me. Not the counselor.”

“And I suppose you’ve been around long enough to see where I’m headed, when I start to wander around trying to get to the point?”

The happy smile dwindled, too fast, he thought. And then a peculiar thing happened -- she turned away, looking down at the ocean, and the smile acquired a kind of twist to it. Regret?

“The problem, of course, is that there are prerequisites to it, usually,” he said, mostly to fill the silence.

“Are you looking for a matchmaker, then?” The humor in her smile returned as she cast a sidelong glance at him.

“There are other options, and I’m just -- “ It brought him up against the wall he’d been bashing himself against, emotionally. “It doesn’t feel right. It feels -- “

“Artificial,” she said, when he couldn’t finish. She crossed her arms and regarded him solemnly. “You want for your children the sort of experience you had, yourself. For all your father’s flaws, he sounded to me as though he did care, a great deal, for both his sons. And your mother was a nurturing, loving woman you keep on a pedestal to this day in your memory.”

“Exactly what one couldn’t do with a surrogate, or an incubator. Which is what one is left with, absent the usual arrangement.”

“Of course, rationally, you know that once past the initial stage, with the child in hand, all of that would be immaterial -- you would be able to pick up the child and go on with the business of parenting, and you would do well enough. Despite your misgivings -- single parents do that. Beverly did, after all. Single parents succeed all the time.”

Picard stared at the sky, at distant flocks of birds against a cloud, at the horizon where ocean and sky merged. 

Deanna continued, as if he had answered. “You must be asking, then, where to find a partner in parenting. Because if the alternative isn’t acceptable, and you’re not finding a spouse, that’s all that is left. It leaves me wondering why you chose me to run this past.”

He sighed, heavily, and went back to studying the pebbles in the sand at their feet. “I suppose I needed a sounding board. I certainly wouldn’t suggest that you volunteer for the job. Nor would I even think of approaching any of the other women I know. I simply knew you wouldn’t react the way some of my other friends would, and perhaps help me figure out if there might be a way… I even wondered if you might know someone, who -- well.“

“Someone who wanted children too? Enough to help you raise one?” Deanna giggled at him. “You want me to be a matchmaker of sorts. Not in the usual sense, but still. And you trust me completely, since you’re asking me without even a worry that I might just call my mother and invite her over.”

She was laughing at him before he could shout about it. He waved her off, scowling, and settled back in the chair with his arms tightly crossed. 

“Seriously, though,” she went on. “I suppose I can see why you would expect your old counselor to help you with this. It might take a while to train anyone else, in understanding who might be a good fit. There’s a certain level of compatibility that would be necessary for such an undertaking, after all.”

It hadn’t been something he’d thought about but now that she articulated it, coming to her did make some amount of rational sense. He’d merely been imagining Beverly’s laughter if he’d dared to discuss it with her. And the conversation would have ended up much, much longer -- he would have had to repeat all the conversations he’d had with Troi, about his parents and all the frustrations his father’s staunch traditionalism had caused. And then there had been the discussions of how he had decided, so early on, never to entertain the possibility of a spouse, a more permanent entanglement -- it wouldn’t be fair to anyone, having a long-distance marriage. 

“Not so much compatibility as would be needed for a spouse, I assume. Being entirely focused on the child without… other entanglements, would be all that was needed.”

“You are proposing that two single parents become co-parents.” She had an amused smile he didn’t like, for a moment, but that faded almost at once. “Has it occurred to you that this isn’t usually a practice for perhaps a good reason?”

“It’s been done. Not often. I suspect for the same reasons I would hesitate -- most people want the normal way of things, romance and marriage and so forth. Having a bond between the parents would be preferable for all sorts of reasons established in the annals of psychological studies, no doubt, and taught in the classes you took in university. But I’ve chained myself to something else, and there’s no way short of going back in time and shaking sense into my younger self to change that. I suspect I wouldn’t even listen even if I tried -- I was always right, you know.”

“Well,” Deanna said, drawing out the syllable as she smoothed her pant leg unnecessarily on her leg, “you could just find a wife. You are, after all, not dead yet, and if you will forgive me for saying so, attractive enough.”

“Oh, well, thank you so much for the endorsement,” he exclaimed, hoping he wasn’t blushing. “You realize the likelihood of finding someone compatible decreases with every parsec we’re out from the Federation, I think.” The current assignment had them exploring fringes of an area along the Romulan territories, only possible because of a recent treaty with the Romulans that they had been able to broker following the Dominion War.

Again, her face changed -- again he wondered if she weren’t going through something herself. 

“Deanna, is everything all right?”

“I suppose, since I’m not being the counselor, it would be -- “ She fidgeted, something she rarely did, and ended up facing out to sea, her hands in her lap and her shoulders drooping. “I don’t have anyone to talk to about this issue, either. Mother has more tact than to hammer me in every message with it, but she hints at it all the time, how old I am, how this or that young man is single, or single again. It’s getting old. And I do want to have children, but I’m all out of ideas myself.”

“But I thought -- “ He snapped his mouth shut, and his chest started to feel tight. He didn’t mind when friends confided in him, but he didn’t like having his business pried into, and so did no prying himself if at all possible.

Deanna stared at him with that calculating look again. “You thought I was possibly considering Will? How many times does he have to break my heart before I get tired of waiting for him to wake up,” she exclaimed with a shocking amount of acid. “He likes the fantasy of things better than the reality. He can burn his pornography collection if he wants to stay warm at night, no thank you, I left that idea in the pile of discarded shoes and old poems from Reginald Barclay a long time ago. No self-respecting woman would pretend for more than the duration of a fling that Will Riker loves anyone but himself and his own animal appetites.”

He was chuckling before she finished, trying not to laugh, but the thought of Will warming his hands over a pile of burning pictures of naked bodies topped by possible results of Barclay penning poetry struck him at a vulnerable moment as he tried to recover from the mild guilt of prying into her personal life. Which, as he laughed, struck him as ridiculous as well -- given the nature of what they had been discussing.

“Sorry,” he said at last. “I’m feeling off balance, just trying to wrap my head around this. So now we’ve gotten to matchmaking for each other?”

Deanna went so completely still that he wondered if he had done something unforgivable. He watched her face, looking for clues. She turned to meet his eyes and hers were as dark as always, and filled with realization. 

“We’re both being oblivious,” she said at last. 

He stared at her with the sort of shock that he usually reserved for those instances when Q appeared, or an unknown alien decloaked in front of them. As if in agreement to do so, they turned to stare at the ocean.

“I’m not going to ask,” he said at last. “I can’t… can’t ask anyone, to do that. I can’t solve the problem. It would be ridiculous to ask anyone -- ”

“Stop,” she said plaintively. When she stood up, he did so as well. “Computer, end program.” When they were on the grid, in the deactivated holodeck, she turned to look at him again.

He broke the silence, after a long silent study of each other. “In the end, you did help -- you helped me see that it was a ridiculous idea. I can’t possibly ask it of anyone, no one can, which is why it isn’t done -- it took getting down to the idea of someone I knew doing it for me to realize -- It isn’t something I would be able to expect of a stranger and I simply could not ask any friend I have to do it, and so it’s totally out of the question.“

Deanna grabbed his arm, above the elbow, and ended the long babbling stint neatly. “You’re right. You can’t ask, or expect. But I can offer.”

Picard found himself absolutely out of things to say. He struggled for a minute and all kinds of reasons why it would be a bad idea danced around in his head.

“You’re not going to make a rational decision, feeling this way, so I’m going to let you think about it for a while,” she said matter-of-factly. “But we’ve been through the craziest things together, and helped each other in any way we had to, and if Starfleet hasn’t prepared you for the insanity of things like this I’m not sure what else there is to do. I am so, so very done -- completely, utterly worn to the bone, over and past done -- with the game. Tired of having one possible spouse after the next turn out to be more ‘flash in the pan’ than a commitment that might lead to children. Maybe my mother was right, and Starfleet wasn’t the best thing to do, if I really wanted a husband and children, but as you said, it’s far too late to change that. I know that I want children. I know that you would be there for them, regardless of whatever our relationship would ever, or never, be. I think it’s likely that even if something went wrong, we would still be able to remain friends. I know these things about you because of everything I’ve seen you facing -- everything from the Kataan probe, to Jason Vigo, to Kes-Prytt, to the times you’ve proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that you honor commitments. When you’re ready to talk about it, let me know.”

She turned and left him there on the holodeck grid, to stare at the closed door long after it closed behind her.

\------------------------

Over the course of four days, he wandered through his duty shifts acting like he always did -- thank the stars for ingrained habit, taking over when he needed it to, because he felt as though he might be in a netherworld of emotional states to which he had never been prone. In meetings, Deanna kept herself as composed and pleasantly friendly as always, not looking at him any more or less often than ever. He had breakfast with Beverly, as they always did twice a week. He met with Riker, the galaxy’s oldest first officer, to discuss what had to be his fourth offer of a ship -- what the hell, he wanted to shout, but as he met the blue eyes across his desk, he couldn’t do it. Deanna’s words rattled in the back of his head, about Will’s inability to commit. It sounded like Riker was taking the ship, though. Finally. He attended the latest of Data’s recitals; the android had moved on to the acoustic guitar, his latest instrument he intended to perfect.

On the fourth day, he went to the holodeck and went riding for the first time in a while -- the headlong gallop through the countryside of England was precisely what he needed, apparently, as when he got to the barn and took the saddle from the back of the sweaty Arabian mare, slung it over his shoulder, and left the holodeck he felt like himself, at last. While lugging the saddle back to his quarters, he rode the lift for a deck, it stopped, and Deanna came in. 

“Hello,” she said quietly, without the usual level of professional polite cheer she would have on the bridge. 

Just like that, he connected the last few pieces of the puzzle. That was Deanna. Not just the counselor. Deanna was not given to advertising his feelings, nor was she someone who ever did anything at his expense. For four days she had been just as she always was, and the ridiculous conversation felt less so, when he thought about it.

“Sorry,” he said, watching her standing apart from him -- he was sweaty, and the shirt he wore showed it. “I was in the holodeck. Have you had dinner yet?”

It brought her eyes up from the floor. “No.”

“Give me half an hour to get myself cleaned up, and come over for dinner. I think it’s time to talk.”

She stared at him with unfathomable black eyes, and gave him a single nod. The lift reached deck seven, and she left it without a word.

By the time she arrived at his door, he had showered, put on a clean shirt and slacks -- not a uniform, and he didn’t even think about that until the annunciator went off, why he’d chosen as he had. But she’d done the same thing. She had one of her flowing blue dresses on, and matching heels, somewhat reminiscent of things she’d worn in her first years aboard, only her face showed a few lines and more awareness in the eyes. She hadn’t been speaking lightly, when talking about all they had seen and done. All he had to do was remember her ill-fated pregnancy with what had turned out to be an alien, or the times she’d been in sickbay recovering from one injury or another. Or the times he’d opened his eyes to find himself there, and she was waiting with a worried expression next to his biobed.

“Any specific requests?” he said, heading for the replicator. 

“Surprise me.”

He gave her a large salad, and took one himself. Once they were seated he lost momentum. Fortunately, she wasn’t shy.

“You’ve decided to do it,” she said quietly.

Again, shock rolled through him. 

“Otherwise you would never have spoken to me about it again. It made you uncomfortable to that degree, I think.”

“This isn’t going to be easy for me,” he said. “I have no idea how to -- how to even start this.”

“Children usually start one of two ways,” she said calmly, picking up her glass. “I suspect you have not considered that piece, so artificial insemination may be the best option.”

He almost dropped his fork.

“I don’t know how much attention you may have paid to the pregnancies of crew, over the years,” she continued, sounding like she was briefing him for just another mission. Which perhaps she was, in a manner of speaking.

“I visited the mother, after the birth, of course. When I could.”

“All right. We’ll have a lot of ground to cover, then. Depending on how much you intend to participate in the pregnancy, of course -- whether you want to be there for all the appointments, and the -- “

“I know what’s involved in a pregnancy, Deanna,” he said, faintly defensive, though he knew she was only trying to be straightforward and not at all condescending. “One of the fringe benefits of that probe -- I can tell you all about Kataan, and the culture, and also about being a father of two.”

Deanna smiled, which felt better to him, and then took a bite of her own salad. “Betazoid pregnancies are typically ten months long. I have really no idea what to expect despite all the times I’ve helped mothers through this -- I know it’s going to be different, going through it myself. But we’ll just take it one step at a time. It’s not going to be like -- like it was when -- “

This was, he realized, not just hitting him hard. She put down her fork and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to calm herself, bowing her head under the strain to maintain control. Probably thinking about Ian, the little boy she’d had after the shortest pregnancy in the history of pregnancies, the alien entity who had surprised them all. He had watched her be so very happy, then so terribly sad -- losing a child was something he knew, as well. Perhaps all of this could be a healing experience for her.

“Weird may be part of the job, but it doesn’t necessarily make it easier. Does it?”

“No, apparently not. Perhaps a different approach is in order. Have you considered a name for the child?”

Her question left him speechless. Shoving his plate aside, he wrapped his fingers across his mouth and thought about it. 

“He’ll probably have my hair,” Deanna added.

Picard smiled at that, as the image of what his son -- their son, might look like, with dark hair. “I suspect your eyes, as well?”

“We could ask the computer. Our genetics are on file, after all.”

Dinner forgotten, they went to the desk in the corner, and using the holoemitters built into the surface of it had the computer create a version of a child using their DNA combined, and when asked for an age he requested a sequence of images, starting from infancy to adulthood. The infant that appeared hovering in the air morphed slowly over time, to a toddler, a child, a teenager, then a young adult -- the face was a blend of the two of them, mostly him, her hair as she’d guessed, but his eyes. 

“Oh, my,” he murmured.

“Computer,” Deanna said, sounding hesitant. “Re-run the sequence for a female sibling.”

The boy vanished, and the process restarted, ending in a young woman with a similar face, dark eyes, dark hair. When she re-ran it again, the result was a different girl, this time with red hair.

“How many children were we talking about, here?” he asked.

“I think one, at least to start with, but I wanted to see if there were any potential for a really ugly child.”

He gave her narrowed eyes and a frown, but her eyes laughed at him. It pacified him, and he allowed a little of a smile in return. He realized they were standing close together, she was almost leaning against him, to see the simulation on the desk.

“So what will we name him?” she asked.

“Unless it’s a girl?”

Deanna nodded thoughtfully. “It would be more balanced if we had one of each. A boy to be a Picard, a girl to be a Troi. Your culture is patrilineal and mine is matrilineal.”

“I’m trying to be comfortable enough to have one, I’m not certain I would be able to reconcile having two.”

“I suppose if we are using artificial insemination, it would be easy enough to have twins. I could ask for one of each to be implanted.”

“You want to carry -- what about your career? Why interrupt your work if you can have them in an incubator?”

Deanna’s head swiveled to eye him with a raised eyebrow. “Do you really want to do this on your ship?”

It was another in a long string of legitimate questions that she raised, over the next hour, which saw them moved to the couch, glasses of wine in hand, as they went through the process of sorting through all the technicalities and the effect it might have on career. 

He poured a little more wine in her glass, letting the last drops fall, and set aside the bottle. He would have to have Marie send along another case. “Robert,” he said, out of context, returning to her original question after long discussion of how they might tackle having children together while serving on the Enterprise. “Robert Andre -- your father’s middle name was Andrew, yes?”

Deanna smiled merrily at it. “I think the girl should be Renee.”

Picard grinned, and realized he had lost the sensation of unreality, the feeling of dislocation, and none of this seemed so insurmountable. “Are we going to do this, then?”

“We can give it as much time as we like, you know. Spend another few days talking it through. Once we start, there’s no going back.” She sipped cabernet and gazed at him with her usual affection.

“There’s another consideration we haven’t touched on, yet. If we did this here, on board, we’re going to have to contend with Beverly.”

It was enough to erase the soft, warm smile. “Oh, dear,” she murmured, taking another drink of wine.

 

\-----------------------

 

The problem of Beverly resolved itself, as it turned out. 

Picard met with Deanna for dinner again the following evening, continuing the long conversation as to how Robert and Renee would come about -- it did make it easier, he realized in retrospect, to have names and images instead of continuing to contemplate in an abstract way the process of having children. As he talked with Deanna he came to a separate conclusion of his own. She was exactly what he would have looked for if he had actually started to search for a mother for his children -- all the questions she brought up were evidence that she was rational, not that he needed to understand that. He’d already known this about her given the years she’d spent helping him in all her various capacities. And he already knew how she was with children. It was just that being rational in general was sometimes a separate thing from being rational about children, and while he suspected things might change as they went along she was being that way now, and it helped him immensely in feeling better about the endeavor.

After a third dinner, and a significant decrease in anxiety on both their parts, he saw her back to her own quarters then realized he was supposed to see Beverly in the morning, at breakfast. He’d seen her the previous day at the latest briefing, but neither of them had taken the time to talk. It wouldn’t be unusual for Beverly to pick up on something being different -- the doctor was, after all, close friends with both himself and Deanna.

When the doctor came in the following morning, she took one look at him, sitting there pouring the coffee and trying not to look out of sorts in any way, and said, “Are you having insomnia again?”

“It’s been difficult, for a week or so. I guess it’s catching up to me. Coffee?”

Beverly sat down, reaching for the crumpets. “Yes, please. Jean-Luc, I’m a little worried about Deanna.”

He almost dropped the cup he was trying to pass to her. “Worried?”

“Yes, she looks almost as bad as you lately. Except she doesn’t tend to suffer insomnia. She’s always been the least stressed member of the senior staff, in fact, probably because she meditates a good bit of the time. I asked her to come in for an exam. She was in yesterday, denies anything being wrong or off, and she seems healthy as I’ve ever seen her. I thought it might be Will -- he’s finally going to take the promotion, isn’t he?”

“You think she’s nervous because he’s leaving? I think I would have assumed she would be excited,” he replied, trying to sound only vaguely interested. 

Beverly’s blue eyes were alight with excitement herself. “But I think this is it. I think he might propose.”

Picard grimaced at the thought. “No, I don’t think so.”

Beverly was now staring at him in shock. “Well, I realize there was a long on-off thing going on with them but he -- what do you know that I don’t?”

“You know I’m not a gossip, Beverly. That’s never going to change.”

“But -- “ Beverly bit off a chunk of crumpet with jam. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think what’s going on with Deanna has anything to do with Will. That’s all I will say on the subject.”

Beverly made a face, but shook it off and sipped coffee. “Well, if it doesn’t, she has something else going on. She wouldn’t be asking about -- never mind, I shouldn’t say anything either. You’re right. Are you coming to the birthday party for Geordi next week?”

“Of course.”

They ate in silence for a few moments, and he knew it was coming. She didn’t disappoint him. 

“Jean-Luc, what is wrong?”

“I told you I -- “

“What is going on with you? What are you brooding about? Don’t tell me you aren’t, I know a brooding silence from a regular one.”

“You do? I don’t.”

She leaned forward and grabbed his arm, thankfully not the one holding the hot coffee. “Please tell me.”

He glanced at her, at the earnest blue eyes, and sighed. “I’m considering having a child.”

Her mouth opened wide, and it stunned her into a long, long silence, during which he ate and drank calmly.

“Oh,” she managed. 

Picard picked up a croissant and started to smear strawberry preserves on it. 

“But -- Deanna,” she blurted, putting the pieces together. “She asked about her reproductive health because -- but you aren’t in a relationship, you aren’t in love, you aren’t -- this is some sort of agreement -- what the hell are you doing!”

He put down the knife and picked up his coffee again, and waited.

“How do you -- what -- what about Will,” she yelled, leaving him to be thankful his first officer was on a different deck, in a different section.

“I really don’t think I want any children with Will.”

“OH MY -- “ She caught herself, to his relief. He had poised himself to dodge a thrown pastry. “My god,” she continued, at a more subdued volume. “Why did you approach her about it?”

There was a faint note of hurt in it, but he had no second thoughts -- he knew without a doubt that even if she had agreed to do it, Beverly would have been the wrong choice. “I didn’t approach her. If anything, she approached me. We were talking about -- it’s irrelevant, really. But it got around to a discussion of both of us wishing the same thing. What the hell are you so upset about this for? Did you really think that more than a decade of Will’s teasing would lead her to fall in love with him?”

Beverly went nearly cross-eyed at him, trying to parse it. Unexpectedly, she deflated, shook her head, settling back on the couch to think it through. “You want to have a baby, with Deanna Troi, because you want a child. I know she wants children, plural -- what do you intend to do, take one and leave her with the rest?”

He glared at her, catching himself almost snarling -- he recovered himself, and turned to set down his cup before he broke it. “I would hope you of all people would know better than to assume I would do such a thing,” he growled.

“So you’re going to have children, and raise them together, and -- “

“And nothing. And whatever we want.”

She laughed, finally, sarcastically. “Well, I suppose you’re making some sort of sense, skipping over the marriage and divorce part,” she exclaimed. “Are you also skipping the fun part?”

Picard sighed, and ate the last bite of his croissant.

“Oh, well, what did I expect,” she intoned, rolling her eyes. “Fine. I suppose it’s between the two of you, after all, no one else, but you can bet when Will finds out he’s going to have a meltdown.”

Picard let his hands drop into his lap. Stared at her for a moment. “Do you know something I don’t, about Will?”

“Other than what we all see right in front of us plain as day?”

“That he can’t make up his mind whether he wants to chase any female of any kind, anywhere, or to focus on the one he’s been teasing for the past decade?”

Beverly started to laugh. “Well, thank you, for the morning surprise -- we could have an invasion force descend on us, and it won’t be any more shocking than what you’ve told me in the past few minutes.” She started to rise from the couch.

“Beverly,” he said, sternly.

She stared at him. “Oh, don’t worry! I can keep it to myself. I’ll see you later, maybe.”

He watched her go, and sat with the remains of breakfast, thinking. The annunciator surprised him -- he rarely had visitors this early in the morning. “Come in,” he called, rising, starting to go about picking up the dishes.

Deanna came in, impeccable in uniform. Her hair was down loose for once -- she’d been wearing it in a bun, lately. “Good morning.” 

“I suppose you’re responding to -- well. I told Beverly, because I had to.”

Deanna smirked. “She has a way of cornering you, doesn’t she? When I was in sickbay yesterday she nearly started to question me in the middle of an exam. I shouldn’t have told her to check me over so thoroughly. I think she thought I am planning to go away with Will, when he leaves.”

“She think he’s going to -- do something, perhaps talk you into going with him.” Picard thought about it, as he carried dishes to recycle them. “Perhaps we need to have the procedure done elsewhere. In another few weeks we’ll be swinging back to Federation space. I can arrange to stop at a starbase, give some leave to the crew, take some time myself -- we’ll have to do that to drop off Will, so he can be on his way to Earth, to take his ship in hand when it launches.”

Deanna nodded and chewed her upper lip briefly as she looked at the carpet. 

“Deanna?”

“It’s fine,” she said at last. “That would be fairly good timing, actually. I’m due in for a birth control booster shot in two days. I’ll skip it and that should mean I’m ready for insemination at that time.”

“So you have until then to decide you don’t want to do this, after all.”

Her smile faded. She stared at him with wide eyes.

“Yes, that was me, being anxious,” he said, a little upset with himself. 

“Do you think the anxiety will win?”

“I don’t want it to. Are you on your way up to your office?”

“Yes, I have an appointment, before we meet to review candidates to fill Will’s shoes.”

“All right -- I’ll walk you on up, at least as far as the lift.”

He watched her leave the lift, and finished the journey to the bridge, thinking about the day. It was going to be like any other, with a survey of a system to keep the sciences department busy. He nodded to Data as he passed through on the way to the ready room. 

Will didn’t give him a chance to settle down to review some personal mail. He showed up forty-five minutes into the shift, as Picard finished checking through the beta and gamma shift notes from the officers of the watch and tried to get to his burgeoning inbox. “Do you have a moment, sir?” he asked, almost too politely.

“Something wrong, Will?”

Will Riker had hints of gray in his beard, which he scratched thoughtfully as he perched on the edge of one of the chairs in front of Picard’s desk. “Not on my end of things. Just a little frustrated, I guess. So we’re heading into a system with a pre-warp civilization -- are we doing any kind of study, on the surface? I can have the quartermaster start to work on adequate costuming.”

“The initial surveys should provide enough information to help us prepare. The probe data included some fairly good images of towns and villages, and their inhabitants.” Picard smiled at his first officer. “Your last away mission with us, I expect -- perhaps we’ll manage to avoid drawn phasers in this one.”

“I’ll be ready for anything, just the same,” Will said, giving him a watered-down version of his lopsided Riker grin. 

“You’ll be missed, you know. Any recommendations on who we should bring in? I know Data will do the job, however, as far as he’s come, I won’t take it for granted that he’s the best one for it.”

Will considered it for a moment. “I suppose you might consider Geordi,” he said at last. 

“That’s not something I’d thought about -- he hasn’t said a word to me about wanting a promotion.”

“He’s said a few times that he wouldn’t mind a ship of his own, some day. I think he’s not willing to say much directly to you yet, though.”

“I’ll discuss it with him. Thanks for the heads-up.”

Will seemed on the verge of saying something, staring at the surface of the desk. His lip twitched, and the moment passed. “Well. I’ll check in with you later.”

“Thank you, Number One.”

Will met his eyes then, and it almost looked like regret in the blue eyes -- but then he was out of the chair and striding from the ready room.

\------------------------

 

Picard came in his quarters, replicated a beef dish and some vegetables, and was settling at the table about to order some music when the annunciator went off. When the door opened, Deanna was standing there, in a red dress, looking like she might be going out for a party, except her expression was anything but happy.

She looked at him, and her eyes immediately shot to the carpet. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to interrupt -- “

“Come in, Deanna. What’s wrong?” He tried not to think the worst, but feared that Beverly had been right.

“I should just go to bed,” she said. But she let him seat her at the table, and replicate her some pasta. She watched him set a glass of water in front of her with a smile.

“You should tell me what’s wrong.”

“It isn’t about -- us, or the children,” she said, reaching slowly for the fork as if waiting for him to rescind the request for information with that much.

“All right. So it’s about Will?”

She put the fork down again and winced, putting her head in her palm, her elbow on the table, clearly trying not to cry. “What did he say?”

“Nothing specifically about you. Just a mood he was in -- and the away mission he was on went somewhat awry, though they were able to recover it quickly enough. Mr. Grayson’s swift action saved the day.”

Deanna nodded and picked up her fork again. “He was my first appointment. I was trying to wrap up a couple of crew evaluations with him. He said that I should think about going with him, and I said I did not want to. And then he became frustrated, then angry when I would not tell him why. You don’t need to worry about anything with him -- I don’t intend to speak to him again. I’ll come to the party Beverly’s planning, sure enough. But I’m going to be on the other side of the room, and spending time with Data, and nowhere near him. I don’t need another round of bullying.”

At the word, concern became anger. Picard’s fingers tightened around his spoon. She gazed at him with a little alarm. Upon noticing her anxiety, he calmed himself and dipped it in the stew, instead of swearing. 

“What do you mean, bullying?” he asked softly.

Deanna tucked a tortellini in her mouth and chewed for a minute. “He kept asking why, why, why do I want to stay, why don’t I want to go, asked me if I had someone… it wasn’t so much what was said as how persistent he was. I don’t think he expected me to say no. From his emotions when he came in, I suspect he had some sort of plan in place that he thought would be too good for me to refuse. And it was as though he just couldn’t believe what I was saying.”

Picard thought about all the times he’d seen her with Will, and all the flirting, the smiling, the appearance of happiness and even what he’d thought was great affection, or love -- he started to question his own judgment, then, and shook himself out of it. The past didn’t matter. What was of more importance was the present -- and he did not like the thought of his first officer pushing another officer that way, to do anything, nor did he like that it was Deanna he was pushing.

“Do you feel it was something that merits a filed complaint?”

Her shocked expression faded to fear, and it was enough for him to keep questioning. 

“What are you afraid of?”

“I think I should let it go,” she said, dropping her gaze to her plate. She picked up another tortellini.

“Are you afraid of causing a conflict, or are you afraid of him?”

She stared at him, begging with her eyes. Finally she made a frustrated noise and tucked her hair behind her ear, before looking at him again and answering. “I just don’t want to see his time with us end in a conflict. I’m sure he’s going through a lot of intense emotions right now, transitioning to his own ship. There have been points where he’s discussed with me, what he wanted to do when he had his own ship -- he wants the same things you do, actually. But I really don’t want to be with him, and I already have other plans.”

“If he tries to do it again, file a complaint. I’m not saying that because of what we’re planning, Deanna -- if he’d done it to anyone else, if he does it to anyone else, it will still be inappropriate.”

Deanna smiled, starting to be more her usual self, and started to eat again. “You’re right.”

Picard thought about the long history with Riker -- the times Will had been on the edge of insubordination, how often there had been moments of discomfort when Will’s attitude had rankled. It was not important, he told himself. But he knew there were certain things about which he did not agree with Riker, and considered himself fortunate that they had never conversed at any great length on some of those topics.

“How do you feel about his departure?”

It would have been easy to be flip, or give the polite answer. Picard considered the question a little longer than he might have just a week before. “It took him too long to get to his own vessel. I suspect he would have had a very different first command, had he taken the second opportunity.”

Deanna gave him that perfectly-executed disdainful look that informed him he was insulting her, really, and he’d better knock it off.

“At the moment, I’m glad he’s going,” he said. “I might even be happy for him. If he stops being an ass, I might tell him that.”

She smirked, not a frequent thing for her, a little surprising for him to see it. “Okay, that’s better. I’m glad you weren’t so angry you couldn’t settle down.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’ve always appreciated your self control. It’s one of the things that will be challenging for Will, I think. The times he’s acted out of impulsive anger have turned out well enough, but that won’t always be the case. The ability to act intentionally, regardless of mood, is important for any commanding officer.”

Picard studied her, thinking that this was something she was saying instead of what she was thinking, and considered challenging it. 

“Is something wrong?” Deanna asked, spearing three tortellini in succession and bringing them to her mouth.

“You framed that in a professional way, but I had the feeling you meant something else.”

Her chewing slowed, and she blinked, putting down the fork. “I was actually thinking that it’s encouraging, that particular trait of yours, when I think about how much contact you’re going to end up having with my mother. She’s going to shower her grandchildren with attention and gifts at every opportunity.”

“You don’t need to be concerned so far as your mother goes. I’d already thought about that.”

“Oh.” She rubbed an eye, reminding him of a small child, and he remembered her original assertion.

“You should go to bed, as you said -- you look as tired as you sound.”

But she closed her eyes, and frowned, and then started to look as if she might cry. “Would you mind -- I mean, of course, I couldn’t impose, good night,” she said, rising from the chair.

“Wait. What’s wrong?”

She stared at the door as if a platoon of angry Nausicaans might burst through it. “My quarters are on the deck just below us, one door to the left. I think Will is waiting there. He’s been there for a while.”

He considered several options. “Beverly’s in the next section, on this deck. Or you can stay here.”

Deanna hugged herself, looking small, not at all like the officer he had come to know so well, and it was enough to trigger the anger, again. 

“Or I walk you down there and see you into your quarters so he doesn’t have a chance to do or say anything. It’s your choice.”

“I should go. I should tell him to leave me alone. And he should respect that.” 

“And your very wording suggests to me that you know he won’t. What the hell turned him into this?”

And Counselor Troi came forth, squaring her shoulders, still looking a little on the weepy side but standing taller and meeting his gaze. “I’m afraid I let him say things, all this time, without challenging them. He always had a persistent flippant way of tossing off comments about being with me forever, or being around to take care of me. I’ve never really challenged him strongly about anything.”

“That’s no reason for him to expect you to tolerate -- this morning you told him no, you told him you were not going, and you told him repeatedly, I would suppose?”

She nodded, her shoulders drawing in a little at the memory. It was enough.  
“Then he has no reason to expect you to tolerate anything further. What do you want to do?”

Deanna thought about it. “I think I don’t want to look at him, right now. Can I stay on your couch?”

“Come on,” he said, taking her arm gently. When he led her into his bedroom, she resisted, giving him alarmed wide-eyed head shakes. “Deanna, you know I tend to have insomnia. It won’t be my first night falling asleep on the couch. Take a bath, go to bed, and we’ll have breakfast in the morning.”

“I -- “ She glanced around the sparsely-decorated room, at the works of Shakespeare in its case on the wall, at the scattered souvenirs on some shelves. “I don’t want to be such an imposition.”

“Is he angry enough to come looking for you, when you don’t come home and he asks the computer where you are?” he asked softly, feeling anger that he had to do this. But if Riker harassed her again, or tried to, he wanted to know about it. Her initial near-request to stay had been enough to confirm that she sensed something that told her not to confront Will. And sending her to Beverly’s would mean subjecting Beverly to whatever would be the end result of such a confrontation.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “But a bath does sound lovely.”

“Deanna, really. We’ve slept in shuttles, tents, under trees -- there have been a ridiculous number of occasions we’ve seen each other in compromising positions, in all sorts of situations. Get yourself in the bathtub, already. You’re only imposing if you refuse me access to my own bathroom, so take your turn.”

Unexpectedly, she leaned into him and put her arm around his waist to give him a half-hug, and moved forward, toward the bathroom, shooting him a smile as she went. “Yes, sir!”

He did away with the remains of dinner, and got himself a replicated ale and plucked his neglected book from the corner end table, sat down, and before long started to doze again. The works of Thomas Hardy weren’t favorites of his, but Jude the Obscure had been one of those he hadn’t read, and had intended to. 

The bedroom door opened unexpectedly, and he opened his eyes as she darted out toward the replicator, bare-legged, wearing a familiar long-sleeved red shirt. She got herself a hair brush and strolled back into the bedroom as she attacked her mass of curls with it. 

“Are you wearing my shirt?” he exclaimed.

“No replicator in here,” she called back, as the door slid shut behind her.

“There’s a robe,” he added, to himself, chuckling and slamming his book shut. “Well. No sense in procrastination.”

He went in and went to the closet, thankfully along the wall opposite the bed so he didn’t have to see what she was doing -- he could hear fabric on fabric, likely she was getting comfortable in bed -- and went on into the bathroom. She had used the tub, asked the computer for sandalwood bath salts apparently, from the lingering scent. He used the sonic shower, and put on shorts and a night shirt, then shoved the day’s uniform in the chute to be recycled. 

“Good night,” he said, heading through the bedroom.

“Jean-Luc,” she called as he reached the door. He hesitated, then took a few steps toward the bed. She’d left the lamp on, turned off the overhead lights, and sat up in the bed, a braid over her right shoulder. “Thank you, for -- for not questioning, too much. I know this seems… odd.”

“Go to sleep, already. See you in the morning.”

Thomas Hardy still waited on the end of the couch for him. With a sigh, he ordered out the lights and turned on the lamp. Sitting with his head propped on his hand, elbow on the back of the couch, he flipped back to the beginning and tried once more to absorb himself in the departure of the schoolmaster from Christminster and the drama of what to do with his piano.

Half an hour later, he heard the bedroom door open. Deanna leaned out, glanced around, and gave him a tentative smile.

“If you need something, go ahead and get it.”

“I was just making sure he wasn’t -- “

The annunciator went off. Picard came off the couch at once, and held up a hand, forestalling what she was about to say. “Go to bed,” he said firmly.

A flash of worry in her eyes -- it made him more determined than before. “Please don’t let him get to you,” she said -- an odd, irregular thing to say, he thought. She turned and went into the bedroom, letting the door close. 

Picard pressed a thumb on the panel next to the door, and it slid back. Will Riker stared at him, red-faced, clearly in a fury -- it was a state he’d never seen the first officer in. 

“I need to talk to Deanna,” he said in a tight, clipped manner. 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Will,” Picard said, as calmly as if trying to talk down a spooked horse.

“You don’t -- “ Will caught himself, as his voice started to climb both in volume and pitch. “All due respect, SIR, but you don’t speak for her!”

“When someone comes to me seeking refuge to avoid confronting someone else, I’d say that constitutes a request that I speak on their behalf. Go back to your quarters before I have you escorted to them.”

It sunk in, thankfully, and Will stormed off down the corridor. Picard locked the door and returned to the couch. 

The next thing he knew, the computer was sounding his usual wake-up call. He sat up, and it took a few moments to understand how Deanna was there, dressed in her uniform and ready for duty, replicating breakfast.

He responded to her cheery greeting somehow, heading through to get himself through a shower and ready -- the shower more to wake him up than anything else. When he returned, she waited for him on the couch, looking at his book, which had fallen on the floor. 

“This appears to be a very old story,” she said, setting it aside.

“Jude the Obscure was from Victorian times -- a scandalous story, that ended Thomas Hardy’s novel-writing, with all the negative reviews it generated. Jude flouted societal norms and suffered for it.”

He added cream to his coffee, and started to drink. He noticed Deanna’s head turn, slightly, as if she’d heard something, and he put the cup down on the table when he saw her expression change. But her hand caught his arm, before he could rise.

“No,” she said, sadly. “Please. Let him in.”

So when the annunciator went off, he did so, and Will stalked into the room. Upon seeing Deanna, he calmed visibly. “We need to talk,” he said, sounding like the Will Riker that Picard knew. 

“Perhaps you do. I’ve said what I will continue to say, if you keep asking. Please don’t do this any more, Will. I don’t want to talk to you, or see you, or do anything with you -- after what you said yesterday, I've decided I want a clean break and I want to be left alone. If you keep insisting this way I’m going to file a complaint.”

It was calm, plain-spoken, and perhaps not as loud or as pointed as it needed to be, as disbelief flooded Riker’s face. “You want me to believe this is how it all ends? Just -- “

“Do I have to lose my temper?” she exclaimed, raising her voice a little. “I had to take refuge with my commanding officer because you were stalking me outside my door all night! Do you want me to file a formal complaint, or press charges? Are you going to make me do that, Will? I want you to have your promotion. I want you to have the ship you’ve worked all your life to get -- I want you to be happy. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize those things.”

Will took another step, and Picard launched himself to his feet as if he’d been coiled and waiting for the opportunity. The two men stared at each other, now.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Will muttered, almost snarling.

“Oh, my GOD!” Deanna shouted. She jumped up, reached across the table, and shoved Will’s shoulder. “ALL RIGHT! Yes, it’s him! It’s Geordi, it’s Worf, it’s Beverly -- whoever you want it to be, if it’s what you need to get it through your head that I don’t want to go with you! Zefram Cochrane! I’ll go sleep with fucking Zimmerman if it will get me out of this endless, pointless argument without anything to argue about! Admiral Nechayev! Captain Jellico! Kathryn Janeway! Where’s Q when I need a good fuck?” 

Picard sat down again. After a stunned moment, he wondered where his holo-imager might be. Deanna rounded the end of the coffee table, stuck her arms out and gave Will another push, a little more forceful than before. 

“Maybe I’ll go deck to deck. Visit everyone! Stay in a different bed, every night, until you’re gone, until you take NO for a fucking answer! Why the hell do I have to have ANYONE to say no to you?” 

Will backed a step, then another. Giving her one last sullen look, he turned and left the room without another word. Almost. He stopped, just as the sensor picked him up and opened the door.

Without another word, in a swift movement Picard couldn’t catch, Deanna snatched up a boiled egg from the plate of various oddments she’d replicated, and flung it with deadly accurate aim. It smashed on Will’s head -- she must have a strong arm to decimate a boiled egg that way. He flailed his arms trying to block without succeeding, managing only to send pieces of egg flying farther.

She had another in hand, and stood poised, left leg leading, waiting for him to do something other than leave. 

“I’m sor -- “

The second egg whizzed through the air along with a shouted “OUT! FUCK OFF!” -- he was gone, pieces of egg clinging to his hair and jacket.

She sat down again, reached for her coffee. “I’m sorry, I’ll clean that up.”

“Have you considered a career in securi -- “ Picard shut it, at the look he got for it. “Well. More coffee?”

She accepted a refill, and then sat looking at him with a smile. "I hope I didn't lose points, with that outburst. I don't usually resort to such behavior."

"Oh, no -- not at all. I -- " He stared at her, suspicious.

"It wouldn't have been so straightforward, if you hadn't been here," she said, anticipating his questioning of why she'd seemed so desperate last night. "He would have kept coming back. Having you as a witness made my point stronger -- if I say it with you here, it gets the point across."

Picard did not like that, at all, and scowled at his scone. He picked up his cup again. "Well. He's better gone, if he's going to be that way." He ate for a bit, drank coffee to wash down the cranberry-something scone -- where had she gotten that idea? -- and picked up a croissant. "By the by, if for any reason you take exception to something I am doing, or saying -- "

"I know," she murmured. "I won't need to shriek, or throw things, or threaten to sleep with all of Starfleet."

"That's reassuring. You don't need to be teaching Robert any bad habits."


	2. Chapter 2

Beverly went about getting things done, as usual, but things were changing around her. 

“I know things change,” she told the computer -- ostensibly in a letter to Wesley, but she still had no way of getting them to her son, not having any idea of whether he was at all reachable by Federation means. “But this? Jean-Luc’s really taken things over the top this time. You wouldn’t believe what’s happening. Will is gone -- the farewell party had a weird vibe to it, Deanna wouldn’t even look at him. And Jean-Luc kept looking at her, at Will, and I swear it’s more than he keeps pretending it is.”

She put her hair brush down and contemplated her reflection in the dressing table mirror. She was old, no need to tell her so. Crow’s feet, the bane of the Howard women. 

“They came back from the starbase -- spent twenty-four hours off the ship, and when they got back, she was pregnant. It just had to be insemination, Wes. No way do you get pregnant that fast -- and with twins, which does not run in either of their families.”

The quiet chime of the computer reminding her of the time sounded, and she rolled her eyes. “And here I go once more into the breach. Breakfast and denial, here we go.”

Jean-Luc had a friendly smile and seemed present -- at least he wasn’t off contemplating the seriousness of the mission, leaving her to eat and drink tea or coffee watching him brood. “Another week of cataloguing the sector should see us done, and we’re off to Ketrik Two,” he announced as she picked up the cup and held it out for him to pour.

“You’ve been in a remarkably good mood lately. I guess I never realized impending fatherhood would do you so well.”

The smile shifted, to reminiscing sentimentality, and for a moment she thought he was gone. But he sat there with his plate in his lap and gazed off into the past, his eyes almost aglow, and then he said, “It reminds me of when we were expecting Meribor.”

Beverly wondered if he did this to Deanna, just dropped references into conversation, and whether his former counselor had better luck remembering all the little details of this man’s past. Likely she did, having the advantage of all those therapy session of the past, conversing endlessly with him, helping him develop insight that he needed to move on already. There were things Jean-Luc did well, and others he did surpassingly well -- being caught up in the past was a talent he had had all his life.

Fortunately, Jean-Luc could be counted on to provide context at the drop of a name. “Eline was so happy. We were hoping for a boy, at first, but she was so perfect and I found myself… I don’t think I ever expected it to be possible, to feel that way about a child.”

Well, that was it, then. Eline had been the imaginary wife. Beverly watched her friend’s face, and sighed softly. It was unusual to see him this way. “Jean-Luc?”

He came back from memory after a brief hesitation, looked at her, coffee poised inched from his lips.

“I’m glad you’re doing this, that you didn’t just give up on it. I can tell you wanted it -- well, obviously, you wanted it so much that you found a way to overcome any obstacle. I think anyone who wants a child so much will be a fantastic parent, and I’m hoping I’m up to the task of dear old auntie and chief babysitter,” she said, smiling a little.

The fond little smirk was good to see. The few weeks of stressed weariness and what had started to look like another depression had started to reverse itself, likely when he’d started talking to Deanna about this. “I’m sure you will be. But?”

She heaved a sigh, and rested the coffee on her knee, next to the plate in her lap. “I just think you’ve set aside one of the more satisfying parts, that’s all. I can still bring up every message Jack sent me, from every day of my pregnancy with Wes, and all the joy in his voice -- I can probably even find a few of my responses, I’ll sound just the same. But you aren’t going to get the opportunity to share it all with someone you love.”

“Some of us don’t get that part,” he said. She regretted saying anything then -- there was a hint of wistfulness, under the matter-of-fact delivery. “Not more than once, anyway. It shouldn’t be surprising that I could only find it in the middle of some random encounter with a probe left by an ancient civilization. It could have been any starship captain, you know. It could have latched onto Will, or Worf, or even Deanna -- it could have connected to Wesley for that matter. All of them were on the bridge.”

“I suppose everything would be different, if it had grabbed Worf,” she said, her amusement plain, and it made him smile thinking about that too. He was in a good mood, a really good one, to allow himself to be amused at frivolous things like imagining Worf in an imaginary situation like that. 

Of course, it had been Worf’s visit to various parallel universes that had triggered the brief thing with Deanna -- evidently for some men it really did take something that drastic to get their attention. 

“Are you still having dinner with her? I’m guessing she’s changed their names at least fifty times by now.”

That was stupid, Beverly, she told herself, as some of the light in his eyes went out. “No.”

She watched his face, wishing she could just tell him to get it over with, already. But he was being predictably dense. It was perhaps a hallmark of men like him that they couldn’t recognize their own feelings if they tried. It was so obvious, if one paid attention, that Jean-Luc had been starting to look at Deanna differently. 

“She has something to do,” he said dismissively. 

Beverly shifted the conversation to safe things, asking about the possibility of upgrading the biobeds -- there were newer models coming down the line, and it was nearly every month she had to have someone from engineering in to recalibrate the damn things she had. 

When she left his quarters, she sent the lift toward sickbay -- then changed her mind, midway, went to deck three, and found the little indicator outside the counselor’s office was green. Deanna let her in and she smiled at her friend -- how many years had they been each other’s emotional support through thick and thin? 

“How are you feeling so far?” Beverly settled into a chair to lounge, leaning on an arm.

“I’m starting to feel hungry all the time. Is that supposed to happen?” The plate with crumbs at the counselor’s left elbow said she might have had second or third breakfast. 

“It can, and I’d suppose it’s only going to get worse. I felt like I was trying to conquer the galaxy one steak at a time, when I was at five months. I can’t imagine what I would have done trying to feed twins.”

Deanna smiled -- she actually glowed, quite happy and healthy, and though she wasn’t showing at only a month along there was definitely something different. “Did you have breakfast with the captain this morning?”

“Yes.” Beverly clamped her lips shut. She had been sticking to her determined effort to not interfere, not comment, not meddle, and damn if she would cave in now.

Deanna would do that -- the little wrinkling between her perfect eyebrows, precursor to a confrontation. “Are you worried about him?”

“I’m worried about both of you, but it’s not something we need to discuss.”

“Why not?”

Damn it, why did she have to do this? “Deanna, it’s not anything I should even -- you have this worked out the way you want it, between you. I don’t want to interfere.”

“Okay,” Deanna said, with the usual tone of patient tolerance of her.

“You have to sense what he’s -- “ Beverly caught herself, but not soon enough. 

It changed everything. Deanna’s collapse shocked her -- the squared shoulders drooped, the eyelids swooped down to shutter those expressive eyes, and the counselor reached for one of the tissues she kept on her desk for clients.

“Oh,” Beverly said softly. “Oh, Dee, you’re not, are you?” And why wouldn’t Deanna start to feel the same, for him, in the middle of all of this?

“I’m hormonal and weepy, and I think I’m going to just implode, sometimes,” she replied, her mouth forced into a sarcastic smile. “I don’t need to be with him when I’m like this.”

“He said he was going to support you through this. Sorry, but this is part of the deal -- you should tell him how this is affecting you.”

“I just need to get through -- it’ll even out, it has to, in a month or two. Won’t it?”

Beverly groaned, got up and came around the desk, and started to rub Deanna’s shoulders, trying to comfort. “You need to tell him. This is a horrible part of it to be alone through -- are you starting to feel anxious about everything yet?”

Another mistake on top of the last dozen -- Deanna sobbed, and Beverly waited through the stormy weather with memories of her own irrational, jagged behavior. She supposed she could understand not wanting the captain to see this side of it, but at the same time, this was not good. 

“You’re not going to say anything,” Deanna demanded, finally mopping her face in determination to not cry any longer.

“Okay, fine. I won’t say a thing.”

But there were other ways to do things.

Beverly left her friend to whatever she was going to do and headed for the bridge. She walked down and sat in the counselor’s empty chair at the captain’s left. He was issuing orders, watching the main viewer, engaged in the examination of a blue dwarf - supernova system, which was very pretty, she noticed, the gasses from the large vermilion and crimson star curving around the much-smaller dwarf star in a perfect arc. 

He glanced at her, finally, and she gave him a Look. And kept giving it, until finally, he raised an eyebrow. “Doctor?” he said quietly.

She looked, and looked some more. 

“Is it -- “

Her eyes were starting to burn a little, but she turned on a glare. Perhaps she could bore it through his thick skull.

“Mr. Data, keep me apprised,” he said, rising and tugging his jacket. “You have the bridge.”

She waited for a bit, playing with the console on the arm of the chair, then quietly left the bridge to the oblivious android ordering astrometrics to run a This-or-That scan, plus a Something-or-Another series, and headed for sickbay.

\-------------------

It was another four days before Beverly saw the captain for breakfast, and while she checked in with Deanna often she left him to himself, unless there was something official afoot. Deanna seemed better, so whatever had happened after Jean-Luc left the bridge must have helped. 

Breakfast was nothing out of the ordinary, nor was the next. And so another month passed, and weekly exams told the story of a pair of fetuses rapidly becoming babies, and moving along nicely through all those minute developmental phases. Deanna kept wanting to see them, fascinated with every change, and while morning sickness had kicked in with a vengeance nothing was putting a dent in the joy that floated around her like an aura. 

Except, of course, for Jean-Luc. 

It wasn’t anything he was going to notice. There were smiles and laughing, and when Beverly chanced across them here and there, sometimes at breakfast, sometimes in his ready room, sometimes even in a holodeck where others had gathered -- it wasn’t as though they were hiding anything from anyone -- both of them seemed content, if not happy. Almost normal to outward appearances. They weren’t telling anyone about the pregnancy, and Deanna had confided in Beverly that they didn’t intend to -- if anyone asked, when they asked, she planned to simply say she had decided to have children, and leave it at that. It would be nothing unusual to have children on her own; people did that after all, and it would also be nothing unusual to have friends who would hold them and play with them, and the captain was her friend as well. Perhaps Jean-Luc would be more forthcoming with those he knew well, but neither of them saw any reason to make a huge fuss out of the situation.

But every so often Jean-Luc would go get another drink, or be distracted talking to Data or Geordi, his back turned, and Deanna would let her face fall into a melancholy expression that lasted for the seconds it took her to sense Beverly’s response. And then she would put on a serene expression that Counselor Troi had had from the moment she came aboard -- but Beverly knew, after all these years, that Deanna was almost as good at concealing herself as the man who could not see what was going on right in front of him. 

There was a time, Beverly reflected, when Jean-Luc Picard had an amazing ability to pick up interest in him, hone in on women who shared an attraction and get what he wanted. But this was not then, this was now, and his children had taken over his brain and blinded him. 

Another month, and Deanna had a baby bump in her uniform. 

It was on -- now the inevitable, crew members she’d hardly talked to were drawn to her, to touch the baby bump -- Beverly shooed them off when she was with the counselor. “I hate that a pregnant woman becomes public property,” she exclaimed heatedly at Jean-Luc, as the three of them strolled toward holodeck three. 

Deanna smiled at the doctor’s frustration. “It’s more frustrating to get all the questions -- I’m thinking about handing out a card, telling them to mind their own business. It’s almost frightening how intensely interested people are. I don’t remember going through this with -- “

With Ian, Beverly filled in silently, thinking about that entry in her medical record. Pulaski had helped Deanna through that strange time, and her notes were sparse -- knowing Kate, Dee had had the best care and support possible. 

Jean-Luc slowed in step with Deanna, and to Beverly’s surprise, he put an arm around her shoulders. He waited, and apparently there was something going on, but the silence lengthened and she watched Deanna’s face for clues. 

But Deanna did as she usually did, and put on a smile. His arm dropped and they were back to status quo. 

Beverly followed her friends into the holodeck simulation of a famous bar on Luna, and put on her own smile.

\---------------------------

When Deanna hit the five month mark, Beverly started to actively worry, not just about the relationship between her friends but about the pregnancy.

Deanna had a tightness around the mouth, and her eyes started to look consistently strained; the air of nonchalance was gone, and the corresponding change in Jean-Luc was an equal amount of stress. 

“The captain all right?” Geordi asked while she ran scans to check his optical implants. 

“As well as he can be,” she replied enigmatically. “Why?”

He hopped down and crossed his arms. “I know about the kids,” he said softly. “He told me pretty early in the game. Right after my promotion.”

“Not what you’d expect, is it?”

“I get it, he isn’t so young any more and it’s not like there’s many opportunities to meet the love of your life out here. But I’m a little concerned. He forgot what he was talking about -- lucky we weren’t on the bridge, we were meeting in the ready room.”

“Well, I’ll have him come in and talk to him about it. I’m about to put her on medical leave for the duration -- maybe I’ll have to do some convincing and get him to take a leave of absence. It might mean dropping them off and sending them back to Earth, but it’s not doing either of them any good having them fall apart on duty.”

“Okay, let me know.” Geordi looked like he wanted to say something more, but closed his mouth again.

“Geordi?”

“It’s just… weird, you know? Sometimes I think -- “

Beverly sighed. “I know what you mean. He isn’t good at things like that, Geordi, it’s part of the reason he’s never been married. That and he was determined never to bother with it. But people change, and he’s determined, and I think he’s too focused on the pregnancy to notice the rest.”

“You’ve known him a long time,” the first officer murmured. He glanced over his shoulder -- the nurse hadn’t come back, though. “Do you think Deanna is all right? With him?”

It was a very, very curious thing for him to say. She blinked at him. “Geordi?”

“Well, I kinda wondered sometimes -- when Will was so intense about her there was -- it just made me wonder,” he said awkwardly. “But she never really seemed to want to push him away. It made me think of a girl I used to know, she never had such great taste in guys, would end up with the pushy ones who were controlling. I know the captain wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, but you can’t always tell what someone’s like, in that kind of relationship, can you?”

Beverly shook her head. “I think you’re worrying too much -- it’s not really that kind of thing, at least not yet, and even if it was -- I don’t think he’s anything like Will. Keep me informed if anything comes up that I need to address, all right?”

After Geordi left, Beverly tapped her badge. “Crusher to Picard -- Captain, can I see you in sickbay when you have a moment?”

“Certainly, Doctor.” The level of formality was a good indicator of either what he was doing or how anxious the request made him -- this time she guessed the request itself was stressful, as not five minutes later he was entering sickbay. She waved him through to her office, and closed the door behind her. 

“I wanted to check in with you -- it’s been a little rough lately, for Deanna. How are you holding up?”

“I am worried, of course,” he said softly, losing the stern exterior that rapidly. “I know what you said, when we were in yesterday -- is there anything you aren’t saying to her?”

The suggestion that she would keep anything from a patient nearly led to snapping at him, but she caught herself and reminded herself that this was his way of expressing extreme concern. “She’s going to be all right, Jean-Luc. But I’m worried about the babies. And I’m concerned that you aren’t recognizing -- stop, stop,” she exclaimed, as his eyes darted away and his expression changed, “no, you aren’t doing anything wrong. She’s trying so hard to hide -- some things from you, that she -- she’s under enormous stress right now. I’m having her come in today, in just a bit in fact, and I’m planning to put her on leave and partial bed rest.”

“Why would she hide -- “ He was having difficulty with it, frowning, unable to keep himself from fidgeting.

“Talk to her, Jean-Luc,” Beverly said softly. “Be honest with yourself. Please.”

He stared at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses. Then a chime at her office door, and Nurse Givens was leaning in to announce Deanna’s arrival.

Jean-Luc hovered -- he was going to be one of those, he’d been doing it all along. Beverly ignored him and smiled down at her friend, starting to check monitors. “How are you feeling today?”

Deanna looked as tired as the previous day. “Terrible,” she blurted. She lay back on the biobed and looked uncomfortable, squirming a little. “I can’t really put a finger on it. There’s been a little bleeding again, and I feel like I’m cramping worse than yesterday.”

Beverly brought up the readings on the fetal life signs, and stared -- “Mary! Get over here!”

“What’s -- “

Beverly glared at him, walked him backward. “Go to my office, sit. Stay.” He tried to open his mouth, but she waved a hand. “You will go, or you will be tranquilized. Out of the way.”

“What’s wrong?” Deanna sounded so frightened that it nearly overrode Beverly’s orders, but perhaps in the end it convinced him to go, and he sidestepped off to the office with such an expression of fear that Beverly nearly reassured him. But she turned and ordered Givens to bring a hypospray, some fetal monitors, other tools she hoped were too obscurely named to be recognizable. She brushed Deanna’s hair from her forehead and gave her friend a smile. 

“I’m going to put you under. The babies are in distress, there’s some blood, I’m going to do everything I can to save them -- you’re going to be fine, Deanna, just take a deep breath. All right?”

“Beverly,” she wailed, the terror starting. Givens came with the sedative, and administered it, and then Beverly could turn to the grim business of ascertaining if one or both of the babies could be saved. 

\---------------------

“I was able to save the girl,” she said softly. Leaning against her desk, tired, she watched Jean-Luc take it in, slumped in the chair in her office looking as if he’d just lost all hope. “That they were each in their own placenta made that possible. Deanna’s still out. She’ll be that way until tomorrow morning.”

“What happened?” he said, in a dead voice. 

Oh, it was the hardest thing, this part of being a doctor. Dealing with parents who were heartbroken was so much harder than battlefields or phaser burns. “It wasn’t anything anyone could have done -- you were doing so well, she was, but sometimes babies just don’t make it. I couldn’t find anything wrong with her -- I wish I had an answer, Jean-Luc. But miscarriages aren’t predictable.” She nearly went on, with statistics -- problems with twins were more frequent, and males more often lost than females -- but she knew all too well, such recitals were pointless in moments like these. 

She thought he might cry. He’d only cried in her presence a handful of times, usually under the influence of some alien mind or a substance, and this was neither of those. Just the same grief a parent would have. His tired eyes focused on nothing, his shoulders hunched, he seemed to be in deep thought.

“She’s going to be on complete bed rest,” Beverly said gently. “I don’t want her to go anywhere. We’re going to move her to her quarters and she’s going to stay there. And you need to stay with her, go on leave, make sure she rests and keep her company, keep both of you sane. I’ll check on her every day.”

“My quarters,” he said, sitting up. “There’s more space.”

“All right,” Beverly said, knowing well enough that there were arguments she didn’t need to have. If that was what he needed to provide what she needed, so be it. She doubted Deanna would be much aware of her surroundings for a while, anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

It was like surfacing after a long dive. Deanna awakened in the bed that smelled of him -- his cologne, faintly, clung to the pillow next to hers. She slowly moved, uncurling, feeling like her limbs belonged to someone else. Everything was stiff. Her eyes felt like she had sand in them. Her head hurt.

A fluttering in her belly told her that Renee was awake, too. She missed Robert -- the little presence she had been so connected to so obvious in his absence. Her belly had diminished somewhat, and she felt incomplete. Pushing herself into a sitting position took a while. Her back felt like she’d been kicked. She remembered being kicked, when they were being held prisoner in Lore’s stronghold. The spot had been treated, but it was as though pregnancy re-activated it. 

She almost fell trying to get into the bathroom, caught herself on the edge of the door before her legs went out from under her. The bottom half of her felt like it might be made of clay. Wincing, she gathered her resolve, and forced her legs into position.

“Deanna,” he cried, and then he was there, picking her up, sliding an arm across her abdomen, taking her hand. 

“I just want to -- I have to,” she blurted, embarrassed, both by her tears and the incredibly uncomfortable full bladder she was losing control of by increments. 

He shocked her by doing exactly what was needed, propping her up to the toilet, yanking up the skirt of the loose dress she wore, helping her lower herself slowly down, and then vanishing from the bathroom. He returned as she was pushing herself up and let her use him for an anchor.

“Beverly said you wouldn’t have complete muscular control, for a while,” he said. “The anesthetic she had to use isn’t so quick to dissipate but it was safer for -- “

Renee shifted and rolled, while Deanna leaned against him. Her belly was pressed up against him; he slid his hand down, to the other side. Holding her in an attempt to comfort. 

“Let’s get you back to bed,” he murmured. 

“I want something to eat.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

As he lowered her gently into bed again, she realized her hair had been braided. He was tucking her in just as she would expect him to do with a child. “Jean-Luc?”

He sat on the edge of the bed. He wore, she noticed, off duty clothing. His worry was most discernible to her, his own anguish not far behind it, and as he fussed with the blankets, that affection that she had sensed so often over the past months. He had been working so hard not to let himself feel that. 

“Look at me,” she whispered.

It was as though meeting her eyes sparked off a chain reaction. She held out her arms, and he gathered her to him as if trying to keep her from drifting away. Fear joined the rest of the intense emotions he was trying not to inflict on her.

“I’m all right. She’s moving -- I can feel her.” 

His only answer was to hold her more tightly, and to finally take a breath -- it was an awkward juddering sob of a breath, and then he started to breathe more easily.

It was hard, feeling as horrible as she did, and having him there. But she knew shutting him out wouldn’t work. She had tried that, for the first three months of the pregnancy, when she recognized how her own feelings were changing. And then he’d started to react to her differently. After being so determined to respect her wishes and let her be as close or as distant as she pleased, he would anticipate her presence and be disappointed, or hope and be sad, or make subtle efforts at contact -- navigating all of it in addition to hormonal and physical changes that left her crying, in pain, wanting to throw everyone out an airlock for all the emotions pounding on her from all directions, had been too much. 

She’d known Beverly was watching and half-expected the doctor to say something to one of them. Not wanting to meddle, probably -- Beverly saw, she was no stranger to either Deanna’s or Jean-Luc’s moods, and she saw everything, all the feelings that they refused to speak out loud. And now she missed the emotional connection -- this was something a husband, a mate, would do, comfort her through this period of aching sadness. If they had spoken to each other sooner he wouldn’t be feeling the rest of it -- anxiety, over things unspoken, colored everything.

“Please,” she said, and stopped when she heard herself sounding so pathetic. She felt the bristling of his short hair against her cheek, and his hand went to her hair, stroking it.

“You wanted something to eat,” he said, starting the retreat into duty. 

She let him settle her back in the pillows and not look at her. “Ice cream?”

“Since I know you’ll have at least ten meals today I will get you ice cream.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” she managed.

It froze him in place. He had been in the process of standing, and settled back down again.

“Nothing either of us did caused it. Nothing we could do differently.”

“I should have spoken to you,” he said, his eyes burning with self recrimination. Of course, the one thing he had regretted would be the one thing he would target.

“Emotions didn’t cause it. Beverly didn’t even detect anything, just the day before. There wasn’t anything that she could do. Not speaking your feelings had nothing to do with it.”

“It was causing you discomfort -- I knew it was,” he said thickly. “I couldn’t -- I wasn’t letting myself see it. I was trying to give you what I thought you needed. You told me early on that the strong emotions of others were bothering you.”

Deanna let go of some of the tension. She couldn’t hold herself upright any more, could barely keep her eyelids open. “Please stop blaming yourself. I could have called you out, when I noticed, it’s nothing to worry about. We’ll talk about it later.”

He retreated, trying hard to set it all aside, and when he returned with a large dish of chocolate ice cream covered with fudge and liberal amounts of chocolate shavings she smiled weakly at him and let him spoon it into her mouth. She made it through half the bowl before she fell asleep.

The next time she woke, she was curled on her side again. The room was dark. He was close and she sensed his brooding presence right away. And then she realized he was in the bed with her. Whispering his name got an immediate response -- he sat up, a hand landing on her hip, the other finding her shoulder.

“Help me sit up?” Her legs felt number than before, her back throbbing.

He did so, with a little more anxiety than she liked. When she was able to look him in the eye, as he sat there next to her against the pillows, she took his hand.

The casual contact was not usual. He had been carefully avoiding the indulgence of so many urges to touch her, unless she needed some support. “Deanna,” he said, too caught up in too many emotions. 

“You should know, before anything else happens, that I have been in love with you for a while, and trying to not admit that to myself, because it looks… ridiculous,” she said, letting the tears tangle up in her throat. “We had an arrangement. I knew there was a possibility that it might happen, some day, I’ve always thought you attractive and I already felt a great deal of affection for you as a friend, but I’ve never been good at being dispassionate and falling so fast upset me. And you were being so respectful, and kind, and I loved that about you, too, letting me have time to myself. Even when you started to want to be with me. And then it was -- I thought -- you were making a decision, and I wanted to respect it.”

It took that long, for him to stop feeling shocked and react to her initial statement -- he started to laugh. Incredulous, self-hating disbelief came and went, leaving sadness in its wake. The laughter became horrible, mutated into sobbing. She leaned, and held him while he cried and held onto her. 

Deanna knew when he hit the wall, and just felt drained and tired, as she did. They were leaning on each other numbly and she knew tears still wandered down her face, but she kept running her fingers down his face, along his cheek, as if the movement helped. He’d slumped against her, his head against her shoulder. It was an eerie reminder of the past. This had been where they had ended up, after the Borg, after he’d finally started to process everything he had been through. Sitting with him, while his body rebelled, ached, tried to rebuild itself, and his mind reeled even as what was left of Borg technology kept him disoriented, chemically out of balance and feeling helpless to do anything about it. Only now it was her body feeling the aching, the hollowness, the throb of tortured tissue and the sting of emotional pain.

It was, the clinical part of her noted, a very similar sort of helplessness, losing a child. Losing yourself, losing a child, either way it felt the same.

Numb to the bone, she stared up at the stars, and wondered where Ian was. It brought her back to the empty place, the absence of Robert, and her heart started to ache.

“It’s only pain,” she said, her voice distorted by it. “Only pain. Only more pain. It will pass.”

“It’s -- “ He fought it, became angry, wrestled himself away from her and sat with closed eyes for a moment. “How,” he whispered at last. “How are you this calm?”

“I’m used to pain. There’s been so much. So much pain....” Deanna looked down at her hands, limp on the gray blanket. The lightheaded sensation was back. It felt like things were starting to spin and wobble. “It’s hard for me to feel anything, sometimes. My own feelings, I mean, shutting down when I’m overloaded. There's too much to process. I need… I’m thirsty,” she said, already starting to fade back into the haven of sleep.

He went, and returned, and she came to herself enough to let him help her drink water. She heard the annunciator and the thought wandered through her that she hadn’t sensed anyone, couldn’t really feel him any more either. She felt his hands guiding her head back down to the pillow.

\--------------------

There were a few fleeting moments of awareness, here and there, and she awakened to find herself alone again. Of course, her bladder was demanding the bathroom, and Renee was doing flips. She had vague memories of Beverly’s concern and Jean-Luc being anxious.

“I hate this,” she growled, as her legs trembled -- it was better, though, she wasn’t having to grope for support. Her legs felt almost normal again. She felt unsteady and still a little tired. It gave her satisfaction that she made it to the toilet and back before Jean-Luc appeared, running into the room and grabbing her hands, peering anxiously into her face.

“You should have waited for me,” he exclaimed, then right on the heels of fear, “Are you all right? Deanna?”

“Please let me sit on the couch. I don’t want to just lay there any more,” she said. 

“Beverly will shout at me if she finds out.” But he let her lean on him when she wobbled a little on the way to the other room, and brought a blanket to throw around her, and then fed her whatever she wanted. And then some. He replicated vegetables, fruit, soup, some bread, until the coffee table was covered with dishes.

“I feel like I haven’t had anything to eat in weeks,” she said, reaching for the other half of a sandwich. He would put a plate next to her on the couch, swap it out for another one when empty. 

“You almost haven’t. Beverly said you should have been eating more.”

“It’s hard to eat larger meals, and I feel like I’m eating too much if I eat all the time, plus there’s work -- how do I get things done while stuffing food in my mouth? How long have I been in and out?”

He studied her, and she studied him in return, as she put the last bite of sandwich in her mouth. He looked better, his eyes weren’t puffy, and he even smiled a little watching her point at a plate of chocolates he’d offered up as part of the buffet, since he wouldn’t let her bend forward to get things. He retrieved them from the table and handed them over.

“Two days,” he said at last. “It’s good to see you awake. I… missed you.”

“I’m sure I am better company when I’m awake. Someone once told me that I snore like a congested Klingon.”

He sighed. “Actually… there have been times that I couldn’t hear you breathing. I panicked once or twice. Had to start sleeping with my hand on your chest.”

She put a chocolate in her mouth and chewed listlessly. It was awkward, thinking about how many times she sensed him wanting something, and not knowing what would happen if she responded. She knew he might not want the relationship -- it might be a complication for their careers, and while she suspected that it wouldn’t, that he could manage, it was still his decision to make and she would wait for him to ask for feedback. 

Then Jean-Luc surprised her utterly, moving the plate of chocolates, sliding along the couch to her, reaching out to hold her.

“I’m always doomed to be too late, in this sort of thing,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head.

Deanna didn’t question it. She relaxed against him, pressing her nose against his throat, feeling quite at home. No ongoing debate for her, this was what she needed. “What are you talking about?” she said dreamily, just to keep him talking.

“I spent too long avoiding Eline. I spent weeks talking myself out of holding you like this, because I thought… I talked myself out of it, because it was ridiculous, after everything, and then when I noticed, that you....”

She forced a weary chuckle. “I love you. Stop brooding. Take care of me in any way you see fit.”

A long silence, while she drifted a little -- instead of whirling in silence with the baby, she felt him, quiet and feeling concerned, but now he was focusing more on the rest of it, and she could feel his love clearly now, unsullied by doubt and fear. It was like watching a flower blossom. She sighed, curled up against him, drawing up her legs, edging into his lap slightly. Then uncertainty started, and he was probably thinking in what-ifs again.

“Tell me about Eline,” she mumbled sleepily. “Tell me what you haven’t told me.”

Deanna knew what would happen, and would freely admit that it was selfish of her, a direct attempt to get more of what she wanted -- now that he was doing this, all she wanted was more, anything he was willing to give her. As she expected, he complied. She sensed at this point he would do anything at all, anything she asked, to help her feel better -- though he still felt a little hesitant and self conscious, it subsided. That was like all the counseling sessions. Initial resistance, but he’d come to trust her with himself. This was no different. 

As he started to remember how being with Eline made him feel, waves of warmth and contentment washed over her -- probably faded now as compared to when he’d gone through the experience years ago, but they were still poignant and clearly cherished memories, often replayed. She had sensed him thinking about them, in the weeks before he’d come to talk to her about children. Laying awake at night, those feelings so different from the usual emotional atmosphere of the crew, and so close to her quarters. 

“It took me several weeks to finish the nursery,” he said, after gathering his thoughts. “I think by the time she told me she was pregnant, I was ready to see it put to use. She would have her friends, and their children, coming by -- it was when I started to stay home more, wander the hills less often, settle into life in the village. I started to realize that I always felt awkward with children because… there was a part of me that enjoyed that idea, of having one. I found that just observing the little ones, hearing them laugh, was so -- I would sit with her, and when she was so awkwardly pregnant I would massage her back, her feet, and feel for the baby -- I remember the first kick -- Meribor was so strong.” 

One of his hands drifted to Deanna’s belly, slightly diminished from what it was but still rounded and firm. He loved Meribor, and he loved this baby as well, and it started to bring Deanna back around to tears again just when she thought she had emptied herself at long last.

“I remember… mornings, Eline felt so out of sorts. I held her hair out of the way if I got there in time. She became sensitive about her body, feeling ill and not wanting me to… to touch her, in a sensual manner. Every so often that would change, and it was -- “

He didn’t have to describe it. Deanna smiled at the remembered sensations, of being touched, loved, that way. She waited for him to continue.

But he stopped talking, and he shifted against her slightly. His arm moved, sliding down her back until his hand rested on her hip. When she raised her head to look at him, he kissed her.

She thought she might never have felt this way before -- there was all the contentment and love from him, and all the frustrated pent-up longing from before rose up in her to fill her to the brim with happiness, that she could finally express her own feelings for him. And it was changing. This wasn’t about his memories any longer. His focus was now on her, and the emotions were much more intense and flooding her. 

The moment was shattered by the computer, chiming -- she wanted to throw plates, but let him pull away, let go, ease her back on the couch. He even put a pillow under her head, arranged her in a reclining position, feet up, leaning in to kiss her forehead. Straightening the blanket, he started to clear away things as he admitted their visitor.

Of course, it was Beverly. “Jean-Luc,” she cried, scandalized. “I told you bed rest!”

“I don’t want to be in bed,” Deanna exclaimed stridently. It distracted the doctor. Jean-Luc quietly cleared plates in the background while Beverly checked her over with the tricorder. 

“You look better. The tricorder says you are. How are you feeling?” Beverly tucked a curl behind Deanna’s ear -- a more maternal gesture than she was accustomed to, from her friend.

“I miss him,” she replied, tearing up, “but I feel all right. She’s been moving a lot. I haven’t had any cramping, or bleeding.”

Beverly softened, smiling down at her. “I’m so sorry, Deanna. I tried -- “

“I know you did.” 

“Is he taking good care of you?”

“Of course.” Deanna smiled at her friend, but suddenly, the pressure began. “I need to go, now,” she said, swinging her legs off the couch.

Before she could start to stand, he was there, taking her arm, walking her into the bedroom and then the bathroom. He vanished as usual, returning some minutes later. When she was once again settled on the couch, this time sitting upright, Beverly sat next to her, put aside the tricorder, and gave her that look that said she really wanted to talk about something.

“I don’t want to upset you, but you should know that I spoke to your mother.”

“I’ve been speaking to her, all along,” Deanna said. “I suppose a few days of silence made her hysterical.”

“You could say that,” Beverly said, amused lights in her eyes. “Jean-Luc was at a loss. It was him she was trying to contact, and after that first shrieking call she inflicted on him, he appealed to me for help. You should call her if you’re up to it, let her know you are better.”

“I’ll do that. Did you tell her about losing the baby?”

Beverly projected a strange collection of feelings, while gazing down at Deanna’s belly and gripping her arm gently. “I told her you were all right. Just unable to talk to her, yet. She’s on her way to see you, Deanna.”

“What?” Deanna flinched, looked to Jean-Luc, who had come back to sit on her left. “Mother’s -- I thought the ship wasn’t in Federation space.”

“It isn’t, and I tried to tell her it’s not a good idea for her to come because of that, but she doesn’t care,” Beverly said. “I talked to Geordi. He’s going to detour to rendezvous with the ship she’s on.”

It would be so like Mother to charter herself a vessel -- with her status as an ambassador and a member of the governing body of Betazed, she had the resources. Deanna found herself gripping handfuls of the blanket Jean-Luc had persistently been throwing over her, at the thought of how Mother would smother her. Then something Beverly had said registered.

“Geordi is in command? Why?”

She stared at Jean-Luc, waiting for him to answer, and he shrugged. “Beverly demanded that I go on leave and stay with you. I think she’s right. I don’t think I would have been very effective, attempting to work while you and the child were at risk.”

Beverly’s shock and excitement at his confession were a surprise; she smiled at Jean-Luc, pride twining through her, and then redirected herself, putting an arm across Deanna’s shoulders. “Now that you’re not sleeping almost constantly, I think he’ll be able to go back to the bridge without worrying so much about you. But I still want someone staying with you, in addition to the fetal monitor, because I want to make absolutely sure there are no setbacks. Would you be all right with some company? Data wants to volunteer. So do some of the others -- your assistant counselor has been asking every day, about you. When your mother comes aboard I’m sure she’ll want you all to herself, so we’ll fill in until she gets here.”

“Why have I been so out of it? I can’t think of any reason I should have slept for two days.”

Beverly stilled, and it started to worry her even more. “I think -- and this is something I’m still researching -- that you depleted yourself to such a degree that your mind reacted by shutting down almost everything. Sort of like the ship rerouting resources automatically to life support, if systems started to experience failures. Sometimes telepathic species react differently to circumstances like this. You’re pregnant, and that’s a huge draw on your body’s resources -- a lot of what would have been used to recover more quickly has been going to the baby. So I’m going to play it safe and say that we’re going to keep you on bed rest, or couch rest, and since I know that will drive you crazy we’ll have to hire counselor-sitters to keep you off your feet and entertained.”

“Depleted? What do you mean, that I wasn’t doing -- “

“Stop,” Beverly put in softly, grabbing Deanna’s shoulders for emphasis. “You had a hard time eating enough. The nausea and the lack of appetite didn’t help. This isn’t an exact science, you know, and I should have started supplementing with injections sooner -- and the stress was taking a lot of your energy as well. I don’t think it would have prevented the miscarriage, but it would have helped avoid the crash. The trauma of losing the baby sapped you of whatever you had left. No self recriminations, that’s useless and only retards recovery. All right?”

“I’m staying on leave for another day or so, no need to find anyone to sit with her,” Jean-Luc said. Beverly met his gaze over Deanna, and nodded, rising from the couch.

“I’ll come back later, to check in. You’re fine, Deanna, just focus on resting and getting yourself back on track.” Beverly headed out. Jean-Luc watched her go, and then touched Deanna’s shoulder as if unsure of whether it would be welcome.

“Why do you feel guilty, Jean-Luc?”

“Because I never learn,” he said with a sigh. “I did all of this, when we said at the start that there might be problems -- we talked about this so rationally, even acknowledged that there were reasons that it just isn’t done. Then I just went along with it anyway.”

“And I agreed to it -- I offered it. If you hadn’t told me you wanted children I would have gone through it anyway, by myself, with an anonymous donor via a clinic. I might have had the same result.” She watched his face, while he struggled with it. 

He seemed to be appraising her now, thinking about something. “Why did you ask me to tell you about Eline?”

The only reason she could think to give him was the truth. It might imply things that she did not want but it was time to stop avoiding him. Deanna knew this was not perfect -- there were better times to talk about such things, perhaps after the birth, after they had grieved the loss of Robert, after they weren’t so stressed. But she decided that trusting him was the only thing to do, really, that he functioned at his best with information and that withholding her thoughts had been part of the reason she had made so many mistakes with Will, over the years.

Jean-Luc would not, after all, abandon the child even if she managed to anger him to the point of abandoning her.

“I knew how that part of your life makes you feel. It -- it was what I needed. The warm steady feeling of peace, contentment, and love. Everything feels so jagged and raw to me -- Beverly’s concern, your worry, it was so easy for you to be in the memory of Kataan and set it all aside and I knew it would be safe, and you would feel better too….”

It upset him, as she had known it would, but he closed the gap between them and held her again. There was a shift in him -- he was happy, in a somewhat disbelieving way, and hopeful, and excited. 

“Does this help?” he whispered.

“Yes. What are you thinking about?” She thought she knew, but wanted to hear it from him.

“I have been thinking about being with you, with our children, as a family, for the past couple of days. In any number of settings, but together. I’m trying not to worry… But I know I can’t expect you to commit to me, at least not yet, and it -- I can’t help worrying.”

“You don’t have to worry. I intend to stay with you,” she murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes.

“Perhaps after you have rested for a while we can talk about it.”

“I’d like that.” Smiling, she enjoyed the scent of his cologne, and imagined an older Renee and her little brother, and perhaps a baby sister in her father’s arms.

\--------------------------

Deanna awakened to find herself curled up on the couch, facing it, the blanket tucked around her and her limbs curled around her belly as if protecting her little girl. She sighed, knowing he was still there, and noticed too that Beverly was back -- they both were calm and serious about something. And then, as she was about to move, Beverly spoke.

“I had to tell him, Jean-Luc.”

It set off a cascade of worry in him, and it was such a mixture of fear and anger and frustration that she guessed it had to be about Will. 

“Just what was your rationale for it? He doesn’t have any right to know anything about her,” Jean-Luc exclaimed.

“For one, he was threatening to just come. Having him as well as Lwaxana here would be far too stressful for her. I didn’t tell him everything. Just that she’s not answering his messages because she’s ill, and she’s getting better, so he can wait until she’s feeling up to replying.”

Deanna pushed herself up, rolling to sit on the couch, and immediately two sets of hands were on her arms, and she waved them off, putting both hands to her hair. Bed head, as usual.

“What a mess,” she mumbled, frustrated. “What is Will screaming about now?”

“He’s not, really. He was worried when you didn’t respond to his last message.”

Deanna gave Beverly a disgruntled look. “He’s being polite, most of the time, chatting about his new ship and his officers, and I know he’s still hopeful that I will change my mind, because he has it in his head that romance novels are some sort of handbook for relationships.” She rubbed her eye, scratching an itch, and yawning. 

“I don’t think that’s why he’s hopeful,” Beverly said, hesitant. 

“You think it’s because he loves me. I think he has an idea of who I am, that he loves, and I don’t feel like going to all the trouble of correcting that ideal.”

“Why are you so angry at him?”

Deanna looked at her friend and thought about the mistake of not confiding in Beverly in those instances where Will had said something particularly revealing. Also, the mistake Deanna had made in not saying anything to Will, or in not saying enough. 

“It’s more at myself, Beverly. I’ve been too passive with Will, letting him make bad assumptions. I’m fairly certain you would never let anyone tell you that sitting around waiting for him to come home was a good idea.”

“I think I was working while I waited, actually,” Beverly said with no small amusement.

“Oh, no, you can’t be in Starfleet. You can’t go out and wander around the ship being a nuisance, either. Long distance doesn’t work.”

“That doesn’t sound like Will,” Jean-Luc said.

“It’s where a hypothetical conversation went, as he spun out the future as it was supposed to be, as of ten months ago when he decided what he was going to do the next time he was offered command of a ship of his own. I asked him what he would do, if the hypothetical wife in the scenario was an officer of the sort that might leave the ship on away missions. Which we all are, at some point. My mistake was not telling him I would never be able to do that. I knew that he spoke in hypotheticals but he was thinking about me, specifically, because of what I sensed. I defaulted to the spoken messages, not the implicit ones. I was being too passive. And so his anger has a basis -- he assumes, because implicitly I agreed to hypothetical conversations we had, by not expressing opposition, that I should explicitly fall into line, based on his great depth of knowledge of ‘who I really am.’ So saying no is breaking a promise.”

Jean-Luc said volumes, by saying nothing at all -- he wasn’t even looking at her or Beverly, just sitting there with what was trying to be a smug smile, despite his better efforts.

“Not to mention there is no way I am able to feel for him as he would like me to, simply because I used to feel that way, when I was young and stupid. Not that it was stupid, then, to feel that way, but I was stupid -- ignorant, really, because I abandoned reason and threw all caution to the wind, because I really was the kind of person then who thought all I needed was that heady, strong, passionate sort of love granted to anyone with more hormones and no brains.”

“You’re just going to make me ask what kind of love it is, now that you’re old and wise and -- well. Hormonal.” Jean-Luc had such perfect timing, sometimes, and that he rarely indulged his sense of humor made such comments a treat when they did come. 

Beverly started to laugh with her; it was a wonderful moment of feeling so amused, in the same way as a close friend felt it, at Jean-Luc’s comment, at herself, at Will, who they had been amused in similar fashion with over the years. Some of his less intelligent decisions had become something of a private joke, between Deanna and Beverly. 

Jean-Luc, on the other hand, being new to this sort of exchange, sat there with a bemused sort of affection and mild discomfort. She suspected he’d said it before he thought about it, and that his comment had been a way of deflecting their commentary on Will, as he likely further extrapolated that they might sometimes do the same sort of thing only talking about him. Deanna turned and took his hand, which startled him into looking up at her.

“We never talk about you, of course,” she told him with a sly smile.

“I should hope not,” he responded, in the dry manner that she loved about him. “Gossiping about the captain that way is against regulations.”

Beverly was watching their hands, with a happy, lopsided smile. As she noticed Deanna noticing it, she shrugged a little. “It’s good to see you happy with each other. That’s all. It's been hard to watch you cry about.... I'm glad you can have some happy moments, too."

Deanna didn't remember much from the past two days, but perhaps that was another symptom of it -- not remembering. Jean-Luc clearly remembered something. Beverly's words stirred a tired sort of sympathy for her.

Beverly went on, still smiling at them. "In addition to letting you know about the fireworks with Will, I was to inform you that Geordi is coming down to talk to you, Jean-Luc. He was concerned about showing up when Deanna wasn’t decent.”

“Oh, Geordi,” Deanna sighed. “I traumatized him.”

“He’s just being polite,” Beverly exclaimed, swatting her knee. “Now I’ll be gone, now that I can see you’re doing even better than this morning and you have to tell Jean-Luc all about traumatizing his new first officer.”

“I’m not sure I need to know anything about it,” Jean-Luc said, as Beverly left.

“It was nothing. About six months ago, I was in one of the holodecks on a beach, and forgot to secure the door before I took off my clothes.”

It earned a guffaw. And then he stopped being amused. Frustrated, tired, and then he made a curious transition to the sort of happiness he’d had earlier.

“What did you just work through, in your head?” she asked.

“I’m getting the idea that I could have a conversation with you just by feeling about things, if we practice,” he said with a smirk. “This level of responsiveness is your way of not falling into the same mistakes you made with Will?”

Deanna felt a little trepidation, but nodded to herself. “Before we start this conversation, let me go to the bathroom. I think I don’t need the help, this time. But you can get us something to drink?”

When she returned he had a tea service waiting, and sandwiches. She smiled at it and took a sandwich as he sweetened her tea to her liking. “I think we have several things to discuss. Communication can be the first, unless you’d rather skip to planning the future?”

“I think you’re going to ask me if I’m comfortable with the way you react to what you sense from me, and truthfully I don’t see that I have a problem with that. For one thing, you tend to exhibit good judgment and tact. For another, that’s what you’ve always done in counseling with me, which was upsetting for a while, but it’s just what I expect, now.” He paused, as if unsure whether to go on. To her delight, he did. “I think it was the lack of communication between us that woke me up.”

Deanna spent a moment in shock. “Woke you up?”

“We’ve spent years, talking on a daily basis, more or less. Sometimes even about things other than my trauma, or whatever mission we’re on. You stopped, for a while. It came clearer in your absence what I was really missing. You joked with me once that if I didn’t have duty I wouldn’t have anything to talk about -- I think you aren’t far from wrong, if we’re talking about other people.”

She frowned a little, wondering what he and Beverly had been talking about over breakfast all this time. Or what Will and Jean-Luc talked about -- he did spend some of his off-duty hours with others, here and there, often poker with all of them later on. He reacted to her expression with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“I suppose I hadn’t thought about it, but I do communicate with you differently.” She smiled, thinking about it. “This would be a completely different discussion with anyone else. I would have to explain too much.”

“Even to Will?”

“Yes, even to him. In a way, especially to him.”

Looking down at the bulging front of her dress was more about the baby starting to move around than anything else -- she held the sides of her abdomen and smiled at the fluttering and the occasional thump. His hands joined hers, just above her fingers, and he grinned with her. And it struck her again that Robert was gone, and her eyes were welling with tears. She cried quietly against his shoulder for a bit, knowing he felt the same sadness.

“You’re not eating,” he said at length, and it was enough to nudge her forward from it. She dabbed at her eyes with a corner of the blanket, and he went for more hot water for tea. The annunciator interrupted them while she nibbled a sandwich and waited for a fresh, hot cup of the mint tea he was making.

“Geordi,” she said in response to his ire. He shot her a look and admitted their friend. Geordi smiled at them as he entered the room, then hesitated until Jean-Luc gestured for him to join them on the couch.

“It’s good to see you,” he told Deanna, with an uncharacteristic warmth. She smiled, hopefully reassuringly, and reached over to take her friend’s hand.

“How are you, Geordi?” She knew he’d been adjusting to the change in roles slowly, he’d been one of her semi-regulars since the promotion. 

“Doing great. I was sorry to hear about the -- about your baby,” he said. 

“Thank you. I hope you’re going to tell me you remembered to bring me fudge.”

He laughed at it with her; it was an in-joke, from one of his appointments, when he’d joked about bringing fudge and some milk as a snack, when her stomach rumbling had interrupted them. “Well, maybe next time. I brought this for the captain,” he said, holding up the padd then passing it across her when Jean-Luc reached for it. 

“Are we still en route to rendezvous to pick up Deanna’s mother?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Tomorrow morning, sir. Then we’ll be back at high warp to where we should be. Don’t think we’ll cause any real delay to the mission.”

“Good. I’ll be on the bridge later in the morning, after Ambassador Troi comes aboard. Thank you, Geordi.”

With a last squeeze of her fingers, Geordi acted on the implicit dismissal and strode out of the captain’s quarters. Jean-Luc turned from watching him go with a sigh.

“Fudge?”

“I was working with him for a few sessions, and my stomach kept interrupting. His solution was fudge.”

“I can get you some, if you eat another sandwich.”

“Outright bribery isn’t usually effective with me, but all right.”

He took another trip to the replicator. “So tell me about the future,” he said, turning back with a few pieces of fudge on a plate.

“What I know, or what I want?”

“A little of both, I think.” 

“I want to stay with you. I know that you are more anxious than I am, possibly because you think you’re too old and I shouldn’t tie myself to you.”

It startled him. He sat up straight, with a wide-eyed expression. 

“I love you,” she added, quietly, shifting again -- her lower back was starting to complain. 

“I think,” he began slowly, then stopped to think a little longer. “Do you want to move back into your quarters, when your mother is here?”

It was telling, that the topic change made him feel less anxiety. “No. Unless having me in your bed is difficult for you.”

He stared at her again, and she waited.

“Do you want me to move back to my quarters, tomorrow?”

“No,” he said, immediately and firmly. Which left her to wonder what the anxiety was about.

Deanna shifted again, leaning forward, and he put a hand on her shoulder then. “You should go back to bed. I’ll bring some of this along.”

“It’s just my back, tensing up. I’ve been having issues with it. I keep forgetting to mention it to Beverly. I need to change position more frequently.”

She moved into the bedroom, liking that she was feeling stronger than before, and was settling in when he brought in a tumbler of water and the fudge. He sat on her side of the bed, watching her eat a piece and lick frosting from her fingertips. 

“It isn’t that I don’t want to talk about the future. I’m not sure what to say,” he said at last.

“Do you want what you were imagining, us together as a family?”

His eyes, and his emotions, said yes. But there was a lot of anxiety in his way.

“It’s all right. You’ll find a way. You always do.” She smiled at him, reclining on her side. She watched him through her eyelashes, sitting there thinking, feeling less anxious and more determined, until she fell asleep.

\-----------------------

Deanna’s bladder woke her for the tenth time that night, and when she sat up she noticed that the only light was from the stars, shifted by warp speed. Standing up slowly, more out of sleepiness than pain, she went to the bathroom.

Jean-Luc had awakened in her absence, and watched her approach the bed. He lay there as he had been. She went about getting in, unhurried, inching somewhat closer to him than before and settling into the pillow. She smiled when his hand slipped into the curve of her waist. Or at least, where it would have been. 

“I’ll get my figure back some day, I think,” she said with a yawn.

“Deanna.”

Rolling, she settled again, facing him. Her eyes were adjusting to the dim starlight, but his eyes were in shadow. “Jean-Luc?”

“I don’t care about the details. Please stay. Stay with me.”

There was a certainty to his words, backed by the same anxious hope and desire she’d sensed before. She reached, and could only put her hand on the blanket near him. He closed the gap and gripped her fingers.

“Always.” 

Jean-Luc exhaled, making it plain he’d been holding his breath. As if there would be any other answer, she thought. Quite a bit of the anxiety he’d been feeling drained away. 

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. 

Deanna wished briefly that he would hold her, but left her hand in his, running her left hand over her belly and closing her eyes.

\-------------------

“I want to go back to work -- part time,” Deanna said, as Beverly put away her tricorder. “I’m feeling so much better, especially since you gave me something for my back.”

“Give me another few days and I’ll consider it. You can take it easy for a while longer. I still want you to spend most of the day resting but you can start taking walks.” Beverly smiled and ran a hand down Deanna’s arm. “How are you doing? Honestly?”

“I’m fine, Beverly. Honest. Especially since -- “

Beverly glanced at the closed bedroom door. Jean-Luc hadn’t come out with her, to see Beverly -- he was getting ready to head for the bridge. They would be picking up Deanna’s mother in an hour, and Beverly would be staying with Deanna -- Deanna suspected that this was her way of getting a chance to talk to her privately, which they hadn’t done in a long time. 

“Since?”

“Since we started to actually talk about things,” Deanna said with a sigh. “I just wish -- “

The tears only lasted for a minute, though the heartache remained, as no doubt it would for some time to come. It had taken her a long time to grieve the loss of Ian, and this was equally painful. She knew the routine -- the pain would come and go, for a long time, eventually becoming less sharp but never going away completely. She forced a smile for Beverly’s sake.

“This is what I’m saying,” Beverly said softly. “I know you want the distraction of work. I also know that piling on work along with the grief and the rest of it -- even if you’re talking about things now, he’s not going to make that easy.”

The door opened, and Captain Picard emerged. Deanna hadn't seen him in uniform for a little while, and found she liked to look at him equally well when he was wearing it. He hesitated, then came over to sit with them. “How is she?”

“She’s doing very well. I think if I didn’t know how she would jump right back into overworking I’d pronounce her fit for duty, but as I was just telling her that won’t happen just yet. Your little girl is well enough, I think, and doesn’t show any sign of difficulties.” Beverly hesitated.

“Tell me,” Deanna said, thinking that the dread must be due to the nature of what the doctor was thinking about telling them.

“I wanted to wait to give you the results of the autopsy,” she said, grasping Deanna’s hand where it lay on her knee. “It was as I thought it was, chromosomal anomalies, related to the genetics of hybridization. Absolutely nothing to do with anything but the way the genetics played out. There were a number of reasons for his death, nothing that could have been predicted or prevented. Your daughter won’t have the same issues, I already completed a thorough examination of her DNA. She’s going to be fine.”

Deanna sat with it for a moment, her left hand wandering to her belly before she realized it. “Thank you,” she said at last. “For telling us.”

“Thank you,” Jean-Luc said, smiling at Beverly. He turned to Deanna. “You’re going to do what she tells you, I hope.”

“Yes.” Deanna sounded a little sullen even to her own ears. “As long as you come back for lunch to save me from Mother.”

“All right, but only because you asked.” He gripped her arm briefly and left. Deanna had the sense he’d wanted to kiss her, but for Beverly’s presence.

After the door closed, Beverly turned back to her and smiled, leaning a little to nudge her with her shoulder. “He really cares about you -- nothing says love like having lunch with your mother.”

Deanna laughed at it, a little. “I know how he feels.”

“It’s not easy, right now, I know. But it will get easier, I think.” Beverly patted her arm and sat back, crossing her legs. “You should reassure him that sex won’t hurt you.”

Deanna smirked at it, and shook her head. “I don’t think he is ignorant of that. It hasn’t been anything he’s considered, yet.”

Beverly’s shock woke her up to the fact that she had revealed very little to her friend, about her relationship with the father of her child. “I suppose that confirms the artificial insemination. I know you were exhausted for a while, and having morning sickness, and generally feeling horrible. But that should be less of a problem now, especially if you’re working less and giving yourself adequate rest. If the old back injury starts to play up again, come see me. Otherwise you’ll be fine, with reasonable exercise -- you know what I mean.”

Deanna caught herself gathering in her fingers some folds of the brilliant turquoise house dress she’d put on that morning, while Jean-Luc went about getting her some hot tea. That man and his tea -- but she’d sensed, as she had known all along, that such habits were his way of keeping himself busy, instead of feeling self conscious. Or in this case, she suspected, instead of being aware of her body. One of the many times she had awakened to relieve herself, she had sensed him and waited for him to touch her, but he had refrained.

“Is it something else, keeping him at arm's length?” Beverly was being perceptive, as usual.

“I don’t think so. He worries. It was the baby, it still is, but it’s more about me. Not my health, I think.” Deanna gave her friend a look -- Beverly felt no surprise at her answer.

“I wonder, if it has something to do with his feelings about starting a family. He talks a little about it -- the last time we had breakfast he brought up his family home. He hasn’t mentioned it in a long time.”

“Marie takes care of it for him. He was thinking about visiting this year.”

“So, he’s talking about that with you?” 

“He told me that a long time ago, actually. Before any of this -- before he started to talk about wanting children.”

Beverly pursed her lips and considered her speculatively. “What was he like, in counseling?”

“Beverly!”

“I don’t mean what he said, I mean how he said it. Because one of the things I’ve noticed is that he doesn’t always come right out to say something. It’s like you have to approach him from downwind, if it’s something he feels strongly about.”

Deanna almost tossed off a comment about perhaps knowing two different people, then thought about it more. Perhaps they really did. Jean-Luc’s comment about not talking to others as he did to her came to mind. It was, she reflected, somewhat different -- he made comments, sometimes, to others about his past, joking at his own expense -- sharing things in a cursory way was not however the same thing as having a protracted conversation with someone. And they had sometimes had such conversations outside the auspices of a counseling session. It would never have occurred to her that he never had such talks with others.

“I think it’s probably a big part of why it’s taken so long for him to really connect with someone,” Beverly went on obliviously. “He's never going to be one of those who talks about those intense passions he likes to read about in Shakespeare plays.”

Deanna closed her eyes, and remembered how it had been, kissing him. 

After a few minutes of silence, Beverly asked, “Something tells me you aren’t thinking about talking to him.”

Deanna peered through her eyelashes, lounging against the back of the couch, eyeing Beverly. “Why were you so happy yesterday, when he told you he would stay with me instead of going back on duty?”

“Because I knew there was something there, but that was the closest he’s come to actually admitting it. Seriously -- this is Jean-Luc Picard! We had to threaten him to get him to go on leave, most of the time. He might as well have started to sing love songs and bring you flowers.”

“I don’t think -- “ Deanna sat up again, realizing that not only was Jean-Luc’s anxiety level rising, her mother was close, and hers was higher. “Oh, Mother,” she exclaimed wearily.

“Take a deep breath,” Beverly intoned.

Deanna winced as Mother started to feel anger. “It’s not going to be good. She doesn’t handle tragedy well.”

“I remember. Maybe I should get a sedative, or anti-anxiety medication, for both of you?”

“She’s on her way -- poor Geordi.” Deanna stood up, glanced around, and stepped around the coffee table, toward the door. As she stopped moving the annunciator went off. “Come.”

A wild blur of color flew in as the door opened, and she barely had time to brace herself as Mother threw her arms around Deanna and cried.

“Hello, Mother,” she said tiredly, hugging her belatedly. She waved at Geordi, standing just outside -- he waved back, shrugged apologetically, and backed away as the door closed.

It took a while to calm her down. She cried -- a mixture of anxious and happy tears -- and held on tightly. Beverly slipped out some time early on, leaving her to deal with Mother undistracted. 

“Can we sit down, please? I’m not supposed to be up and about much,” Deanna said eventually, hating that she was resorting to it. 

Mother stepped back then, and with the sight of her face Deanna was shocked -- Mother’s fear and weariness were plain to see, and she was not smiling. “Deanna.”

She took her mother to the couch, offered her tea, and picked up a piece of fruit without thinking about it and took a bite. Mother’s eyes followed the movement, then focused on the bulge in her dress.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were with someone? Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant sooner? I would have been here,” Mother exclaimed, more anguished than angry, now that she’d worked through the first wave of histrionics. “It’s been too long, Little One! You won’t come home, and now you won’t tell me about my grand baby until you’re five months along?”

“It’s -- complicated.”

Mother looked around them at last. “Where are all your things, dear? This isn’t like you at all!”

“I haven’t -- moved any of them yet. Mother, I’m -- ”

“I remember when you would tell me everything,” Mother sadly intoned, shaking her head, a faraway look in her eye. “We were so close once! Now I have to actually come looking for you, and what happened to Will? When I heard he was promoted in the news -- oh, dear, now, why are you getting angry? Why wouldn’t I assume when he contacted me about arranging your wedding on Betazed?”

Deanna glared at her, angry because she wasn’t letting her talk, angry at Will, angry at the entire situation. She took a deep breath. She took another, and another, and Mother remained quiet, hands in her lap, suspiciously still -- this was one of the things about her mother that frustrated her the most. She would do this -- the calm before the next smothering.

“I waited to tell you I was pregnant because it -- I was having a difficult time, and it was quite stressful, and there were things I needed to settle.” Deanna hesitated, not wanting to, but knowing she had to. “Mother, I’ve been having difficulties especially over the past few days… I was pregnant with twins.”

“Twins! OH -- “ It registered then, and Lwaxana’s face fell, her eyes closing. 

“Dr. Crusher was able to save the girl,” Deanna said, feeling the tightness in her chest at the words. “Her name is Renee.”

“Oh, dear,” Mother cried, reaching, and Deanna held her and patted her back gently. “Oh, my poor, poor dear.”

And then she was pulling away again, putting her hands on Deanna’s shoulders. “But Deanna, if you aren’t with Will, then who is the father?”

“It’s Jean-Luc,” she replied, awkwardly, unsure of the reaction she would get. When Mother froze, mouth open, she added. “You know, Captain Picard?”

Mother rose from the couch as if being pulled up by a string, as if levitating, and stared at her open-mouthed. She turned away, covering her face with her hands.

“Mother?”

“I’m so sorry, Little One, but I just don’t -- how could you not tell me?”

Deanna went to her, putting her hands on the shoulders of the multicolored pastel gown she wore, and leaned her cheek on her mother’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry you’re upset. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was… afraid, of how you would react, because I know you -- that you were interested in him, before.” It was not the best option, Mother hadn’t been, she’d only teased him about it mercilessly, but given the reaction she was getting, Deanna felt that the entire truth was best postponed. 

Mother turned around to throw her arms around Deanna, predictably, responding to the anguished tone she had. “Little One, I am so touched by that -- but that isn’t -- “

“Then what is it?”

“I’m afraid I said some horrible things to him,” Mother said tearfully. “I know he’s never liked me.”

“Mother -- “

“Oh, Little One, he won’t let me come see her will he?”

“If that was true, why are you here now? Stop,” Deanna exclaimed. She went to get a cool cloth for her mother to use and was coming back from the replicator when the door opened and the captain strode in. Jean-Luc immediately scowled at her, halting in the middle of the room.

“What are you doing? You said you were following doctor’s orders!”

Mother pounced, predictably -- from vulnerable to making excuses in less than five seconds. “Deanna! You didn’t tell me you were -- why are you keeping things from me,” she wailed, waving her arms. “I’m so sorry, Jean-Luc, she didn’t say a word! And I’m sorry that I was so upset, when I spoke to you that way! I was so afraid, not hearing anything -- “

“I understand,” Jean-Luc said, a little more firmly than necessary, but went on in a more subdued manner when Lwaxana fell silent. “I understand, believe me. Now -- Deanna is supposed to be resting, as much as possible. Dr. Crusher instructed her to walk a bit for exercise, but not to overdo it. As much as she's been eating, laps to the replicator would be overdoing it. I was hoping that while you are here, you could ensure that she is following the doctor’s orders?”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Deanna exclaimed. She felt a little nervous, addressing him that way when he was more Captain Picard than the man she’d been in bed with last night, but not very; she’d always had an excellent working relationship with him, even scolded him a little from time to time.

“Oh, my dear, of course you don’t,” Mother exclaimed condescendingly, “but you don’t need to wait on me -- I’ll just get Mr. Homn.” With a caress of Jean-Luc’s cheek she flitted out of the room, on a mission.

Deanna fell on the couch and held the cloth to her eyes. 

“At least she’s being somewhat calmer than usual,” Jean-Luc remarked.

“At least you don’t have many breakable items in here for me to throw,” she shot back, with a little more anger than humor. 

“I came to ensure all was well -- you seem to have things well in hand.”

Deanna sat up, dropping the cloth on the coffee table next to the tea pot, and looked up at him woefully. He was giving her that faint smile of the captain at work, standing over her with crossed arms. She remembered what Beverly had said, and sighed.

“I love you, too.”

He didn’t expect it -- his arms uncrossed, he turned, hesitated, took two steps and joined her on the couch, putting his hand on her thigh. She felt the intent, and leaned as he did, and their lips met. It was a brief, but intense, kiss. But he was too aware of her mother’s impending return and pulled away.

Deanna smiled at him and put her hand over his on her thigh. “Dr. Crusher said that even though she is being careful and keeping me on medical leave -- what?”

“She’s incurable,” he said with a snort. “Can’t help meddling.”

“I thought it was the doctor’s call, as to when their patients could resume their normal activities. That isn’t typically considered meddling. So she informed you we could have sex as well, I take it?”

He was regarding her with patient affection. 

“I suppose it’s too much to expect, to discuss sex when my mother is about to return with an armload of baby toys,” she admitted. “Especially since she’s likely to want to discuss it with us.”

His lip curled at the very suggestion. “Perhaps the good doctor should discuss her recommendations with your mother directly?” 

She shrugged remorsefully, recognizing the scolding for what it was. “I was trying to discuss what’s happened with the children, I actually did tell her first thing, that I was supposed to be resting, but she -- you know how she can be. Particularly when she’s anxious. She was so distraught, when I told her it was you -- “

“What do you talk about with her, when she calls? You’re on subspace with her every week,” he exclaimed. “How does she not know?”

“Jean-Luc,” she said angrily. He stopped feeling irate, eyebrows rising, anxious. “If you’ll recall, we weren’t really together as anything but parents, until we started talking about this just days ago. She loves romance and weddings, she would have been livid if I had told her I was having children without any of that -- I was waiting until I could actually hand her a baby to distract her from the fact that she didn’t get to hear all about how the romance led up to conception and engagement.”

He was eyeing her dubiously. “If that’s true….”

“I don’t tell her when I fall in love. She plans weddings when I do that. She was planning weddings for me before I graduated from the Academy. If I had told her months ago that I was pregnant, she would have built a house for me by now, and filled it with furnishings and toys and made appointments with a pediatrician on Betazed. All her messages and our conversations would be begging and pleading for me to come home, instead of informing me of her latest adventure and showing me her souvenirs.”

He thought intensely about that. “Is she planning a wedding for us, now?”

“That would be better than what she’s been doing,” Deanna said wearily. “Will apparently contacted her before he departed to take the Titan, to plan a wedding for us on Betazed.”

He swayed backward slightly. “He certainly was sure of himself, wasn’t he?”

“He never asked me if I wanted one, or mentioned talking to Mother, and I’m quite shocked that she’s never even dropped a hint of it to me. Although I suppose the fact that she was so happy every time I called should have been one… I thought it meant she was with another of her suitors.”

Jean-Luc glanced at the door. “Are you certain she’s coming back?”

Deanna thought about it, checking, and smiled. “She’s afraid of you. She’s waiting for you to leave.”

He smirked at it, then something occurred to him that sparked some anxiety in him. “Do you want her to plan a wedding for us?”

“There’s been no proposal, no discussion, and I’m not going to worry about what she’s doing either way. If we don’t show up to a wedding she’s planned, she will simply make it one of her lavish parties, and enjoy herself anyway. I suspect that she’s had at least two weddings for me every year for a while, now.” Deanna paused when Renee did a flip. “Do you want a wedding?”

He frowned. He didn’t feel as though he were opposed to it, but reversing his question frustrated him, as it always had. “I hate it when you do that.”

“I shouldn’t be the counselor any more, I suppose, so I'll practice answering the question. I would like a wedding at some point. If we are both ready for that.”

Jean-Luc’s smile was understated, compared to what he actually felt; he brushed her hair back from her face, and leaned in to kiss her again. She leaned into his hand, when it drifted up to her breast.

“Bridge to Captain Picard.”

Predictable, how he came all the way to his feet. “Yes?”

“We have an unknown alien vessel on sensors. They just raised shields.”

“On my way -- yellow alert.” He glanced at her, raised a finger, gestured vaguely. “As to the matter…. We’ll discuss it, tonight.”

“Unless there’s a crisis,” she amended with a sad smile. “I will be here, resting. Wishing I was on duty with you.”

He responded to that with a curious mixture of anxiety and dismay, but he was already walking out, on his way to the bridge. Deanna settled back to wait for her mother’s piles of presents and her servant to return, with Mother flitting along behind.

\-----------------------

The bedroom door opening woke Deanna, and she noted that it was dark, and the stars in the viewport above stationary, the edge of a planet’s atmosphere hazing a corner of the port. She rolled on her back, stretched a little, and of course, the bladder wanted relief. But it wasn’t so urgent that she couldn’t wait, and watched Jean-Luc cross the room, rummage in a drawer, move into the bathroom to change, closing the door before turning on the light so he wouldn’t wake her. 

She could sense and interpret easily enough that it had been a difficult day. His mind was still busy, a sure sign that he’d be awake the rest of the night under normal circumstances. He came out silently and as he reached his side of the bed, she slipped out, casually strolling into the bathroom. He hadn’t even looked at her, otherwise there would have been the jolt of surprise at seeing her naked.

He saw her on the return, however, and tensed. She slid back in the sheets, rolled away from him, and began the progression. Wiggle, slide backward. Wiggle, slide. On the third slide she felt her back against his elbow. 

“Oh, hell,” he mumbled, radiating amusement and weariness. 

Deanna rolled over, her chin landing neatly on his shoulder, the bump that was their daughter coming to rest against his arm. “I suppose it’s a pathetic seduction attempt, at that.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Neglected.”

He groaned, but he started to respond as she’d hoped, so she nibbled at his ear experimentally. 

“Next week makes six months. We're more than halfway there, Renee and I. I think my libido is rebounding.”

“Oh, what makes you say that,” he grumbled even as he turned his head and met her for a kiss. She straddled him without breaking contact, started to shove the shorts down his legs, and pushed her other hand up his chest beneath the shirt. 

Sitting up, she tugged the shirt off over his head and sat, his hard, warm penis beneath her. A short pelvic thrust verified that with little effort she would be impaled. Before she could move again he did -- she found herself on her back in a whirl of covers and then he was in her, catching her leg by the back of the knee on his arm, guiding it wider to let him thrust deeply. It surprised her. Clearly, whatever the anxiety he’d been having here and there might be about, it was not this.

But his hand went to her belly, and successive thrusts were slow, deep, almost languid. He held himself almost upright and slid his arm from her bent leg to run his other hand up her body, which arced to meet it -- she closed her eyes, her mouth falling open, and let him play her like an instrument. When his hand slid over her belly and the thumb found her clitoris, flicked it, she came in a rush -- as primed as she had been, after the masturbating she had done out of frustration after her mother left late in the evening, it wasn’t surprising to be this responsive to his touch. He was a little surprised, probably at the ferocity of the contractions of her orgasm, and came himself after a few ragged thrusts while she clenched around him intentionally.

“Hold me,” she ordered, out of breath. 

Jean-Luc laughed at it, and crawled up to fall next to her then gather her up against his chest. “Would there be a court-martial if I didn’t?”

“Yes. I wanted you to, for too long already.”

“I thought you were going to be less passive.”

Deanna tensed, but he kissed along the nape of her neck, along her ear, and she pushed closer, burrowing in, exposing more neck for his attentions. “I wasn’t certain what you preferred, aggressive, submissive, or….”

“Yes,” he breathed hotly in her ear. Then his manner changed -- he pressed his lips against her hair, held her tighter, and whispered, “I love you.”

Deanna started to cry, happily, and quivered head to toe. “I love you. So much.”

He started to chuckle, again, and sighed. “I like this kind of insomnia better than the other,” he muttered. 

“Are we waking up to a mission in the morning?”

She regretted asking, as it tapped into the side of him that made the sensual, passionate Jean-Luc go back into hiding. He sighed, more heavily this time. “Diplomacy and mediation. If you can’t come with me, perhaps I’ll take your mother.”

“What? Did you just say you were taking Mother on a mission?”

“They’re telepaths. I’m a little out of my depth.”

“Oh, dear. I’ll talk to Beverly.”

But she felt his hand tighten, involuntarily, against her back.

“Unless you don’t want me to go.”

The anxiety edged into fear, but he said, “I’m not going to ask you to give up your career.”

She smiled, pushed herself up just enough to kiss his forehead. “Ask my mother. If she will help, I’ll stay aboard.”

Jean-Luc let her go, stared up at her in the starlight, and seemed to be speechless. His fear ebbed, and now he felt awe, and the love he’d been feeling for her came to the fore.

“You didn’t ask me to,” she said. “You made it my decision. I know how much you love me, and I know how important we are to you. I’m not going to ask you to compromise a mission so I can be an officer.”

She’d never seen that smile on him before, or the love in his eyes so plainly, as he hovered between joy and relief, but she knew she wanted to see it again and again.


	4. Chapter 4

Jean-Luc stood on the balcony overlooking the city, holding the drink he’d been given, and at his side Data did the same. Inside, through the open door, he could hear Lwaxana exchanging recipes with one of the Kidrin. The aliens had turned out to be much friendlier when they had produced a representative who could communicate more comfortably with them. 

“I have never seen the ambassador so responsive to your requests, Captain,” Data said.

“I’ve noticed. Quite a relief.” Jean-Luc watched a small vessel go by -- aerial travel seemed to be the norm here, instead of ground vehicles. They were on the twenty-sixth floor of the expansive capitol building, which gleamed a metallic teal in the bright sun.

“I am sure that has something to do with your joint effort to produce offspring with Counselor Troi.”

Jean-Luc turned to look at Data steadily. The android had improved over the years in the ability to interpret the nonverbal cues from his friends, and it made an impact.

“I am uncertain how to refer to your… relationship,” Data confessed. “My apologies.”

It was one of the things he had anticipated difficulty with, and Jean-Luc smiled at his friend sympathetically. “I think you should know, Data, that I have appreciated your discretion in these past months.”

“I know that you do not appreciate being questioned in private matters, sir.”

Jean-Luc nodded. “I don’t, no. But -- Data, as a point of clarification, the relationship I have with her is… evolving, in a way that makes it less resistant to labeling.”

Data nodded. “So you are now romantically involved with Deanna, rather than merely having children with her.”

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. “Well. That’s… yes. You know that I do not typically indulge such things, under the circumstances however….”

Data smiled, and managed to make it look quite natural. He’d been practicing for a long time. “I know, Captain. But I hope that it is not too intrusive, if I say that I am happy for you.”

Jean-Luc was stunned, raised his head slightly. “Thank you. I wasn’t aware that you were using the emotion chip today.”

“Deanna has been assisting me in refining changes to the programming, and so I am beginning to use it more often in an attempt to further that process.” Data paused, tilting his head slightly in that manner that reminded Jean-Luc of a bird. “Will she be returning to duty soon?”

“I expect so. You should stop in to see her. I think she would appreciate it. She has a lot of time to fill at the moment, and for those of us who are accustomed to being busy, that can be difficult.”

“Perhaps I will go after we conclude this negotiation. I have missed our chess games.”

“You still play chess with her?” Jean-Luc had been aware of occasional games between them, as they had at times played in Ten Forward, but hadn’t known that had continued.

“Of course. She is an excellent opponent. And a very good friend.”

“Yes, she is. I believe -- “

“I find that I am challenged when good friends come into conflict with other good friends, at times, and I have appreciated her assistance in such matters. However, I am at the moment presented with a dilemma, as she is one of the two friends currently in conflict, and so I am wondering, if I might be so presumptive, if you would be able to provide me with some counsel.”

Jean-Luc stared at the android, not liking the sound of this. “I generally stay clear of such entanglements, myself. I have very little input other than that.”

But Data frowned, and looked down at his drink. 

“What are you trying to resolve, Data?”

“Captain Riker, in the course of one of our recent communications, asked me how she is doing. I am afraid that I… misjudged. Misspoke. I told him that she and the baby are doing well, under the assumption that he knew that she was pregnant. It is sufficiently notable news, an important life event that traditionally friends share with -- “

“I understand, Data, and I see why you are in a quandary -- you weren’t aware that Deanna hadn’t told him.”

Data kept frowning and staring at the landscape before them. Behind them, Lwaxana laughed, and the shrill piping of the Kidrin joined her in amusement at something. Jean-Luc knew that they were being rude, now, standing out here far too long, but suspected that in fact they were not missed. 

“Data?”

“Will was extremely upset,” Data said faintly, and from his reserved manner and hesitance, Jean-Luc knew that it was far worse than stated. “I feel a great deal of guilt, as I fear that he will continue to be angry with Deanna, and with you.”

The sinking feeling of dread deepened now into a black hole of growing trepidation. “Data… what else did you tell Will?”

Now the android was staring at him in dismay. Or, as much as he ever showed. “I have misjudged again.”

“I’m not angry at you, Data. You were not aware of any of the details. What did you tell him?”

“He asked if I knew who the father was. I hesitated to say anything, and told him that I was uncomfortable in divulging any more information and apologized for upsetting him. He asked if you were the father. I said nothing, and he apparently took that as confirmation. I did not come to you yesterday to let you know, as immediately after that point in the conversation you called for a yellow alert in response -- “

“Yes, Data, I know. So you actually said nothing at all. Which I appreciate. I suspect you understand not to further involve yourself in the matter -- when we return to the Enterprise I shall contact Will myself.”

“Oh, Captain,” came the inevitable lilting summons of Ambassador Troi. 

“I believe we have stayed overlong on the balcony,” Data commented quietly.

“Yes. Shall we?”

\-------------------------

Returning Lwaxana to her quarters was less anxiety-provoking than returning to his own. Jean-Luc breathed a sigh of relief upon finding Deanna asleep on the couch, curled up as she tended to do, with the assistant counselor, Bailey Bixby, sitting in the chair nearby reading a padd.

“Good afternoon, Counselor,” he said, as Bixby sprang to attention. “At ease. How are you?”

Bixby smiled and glanced at Deanna. “I’m fine. She hasn’t been in a very good mood, though. Nothing completely out of bounds, she was nice enough to to me, but I think she was on subspace with someone before I got here.”

Deanna had started to awaken by the time the lieutenant finished. Jean-Luc smiled and dismissed her to her duties, and sat on the couch next to Deanna’s head. When she sat up, Deanna squinted at him as she did when exhausted, and scooted over to lay against him with her face in the shoulder of his uniform.

“The mission went well,” he said. “We, mostly your mother and her incredible memory for recipes featuring things that taste bitter, made friends today. They were calmer by the end of the meeting and willing to send a few representatives aboard tomorrow to tour the ship, and talk with a little more focus on the specifics of treaties.”

“I’m glad,” she said flatly. “Hold me?”

He brought up the other arm to join the first, and hug her tightly. “What’s wrong?”

“Will found out about us. He called after you left with Mother. I asked the bridge to not put any more calls from him through to me.”

There was a world of information left out of that, yet Jean-Luc believed that he understood why. She sounded on the verge of tears as it was. “He has made some very poor assumptions and choices. You told me that he broke your heart more than once.”

“Twice.”

“He told me, quite a long time ago, that you were engaged once upon a time.”

“Oh, yes. And then he sent me a message telling me he took a promotion instead of coming to our wedding. I didn’t hear from him again. When I saw him next, we were aboard the Enterprise, and he told me he wanted to keep our relationship strictly professional. I was so hopeful, when he came in, and after he left I cried -- just for a bit. He started to talk as if we were getting back together a few years later, flirting with me, but then he met Soren, and nearly left Starfleet to be with her. And a few years after that, the same thing -- more flirting. It doesn’t matter, Jean-Luc, not any more.”

“Do you want anything to eat?”

It led to a bathroom trip, ice cream, a back rub, and eventually she took another nap, in the bedroom. Leaving her curled up and drowsy, Jean-Luc decided to take the chance. He went to the desk in the corner of his living room and opened a channel. When Will’s face appeared on the monitor, the man looked across subspace at him with a surly, surprised expression.

“Captain,” Will acknowledged.

“Hello, Will.”

“I suppose you’re calling because she told you we had an argument,” he said, sullen.

“Oh, no. She didn’t tell me you argued, or what you said.”

“I don’t appreciate being lied to, Jean-Luc. I asked her to her face -- you were there. She said there was no one else. And now you’re having children with her?”

“Did she tell you how that happened?”

Will glared. It tipped him off that it hadn’t come out the way he’d intended.

“Will, there was no one, when you left. She told you the truth. She and I weren’t together. We were discussing a business arrangement.”

“What? You don’t have any business with her,” he exclaimed. 

“We did. The business of having children.”

Will’s incredulous snort ended in a sneer. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, certainly, if I could go back in time, I’d tell myself that’s exactly what it is. But I’ve never pretended to be smart, in these matters. And she was on the verge of finding a clinic and becoming a single parent. She honestly had no interest in being with you. That’s the only reason she had for refusing to go with you. I can’t say that I blame her for that choice, given the way you’ve acted since.”

Will’s eyes darted back and forth, as he scratched his beard and looked frustrated. “Look, Jean-Luc -- maybe I should have said something to her, about a few things, but she never indicated she had no interest in me. Quite the opposite. You don’t get to judge me on things you weren’t part of.”

“Well, if she’d come to me as a friend and told me that a man she was in love with had first proposed to her, made promises to marry her, and then completely dropped her in an impersonal message and never spoken to her again, I would have said good riddance. If she then told me that he subsequently spent years teasing and flirting with her, then making promises to others, I would have thought she had a masochistic bent. If she told me that she’d been close friends with the man, and then discovered that he had tried to talk her into leaving her career to be with him, then become angry at her when she decided to move on instead of taking him up on that offer, I’d have to tell her that she should remain true to herself, to what she wanted for her future. Not cave in and go with him. Especially after he proved that he was all talk and no consistency at all, without the respect that would have demanded that in that initial encounter, that he actually speak to her instead of leaving a message ending it, to ask her what she wanted to do -- would she postpone her own career, go with him to get married, return to it later? Would she agree to meet some months down the line and marry? Would she perhaps like to plan a future together, with him? If the last thing you did after deciding to marry her was call her mother to have her plan a wedding -- instead of perhaps asking the woman in question if she still felt like marrying you -- I suspect consistency to be your strongest characteristic.”

Will was actively snarling at him and at the first opportunity snapped, “All well and good to decide I’m wrong, based on a one-sided account of things!”

“That does sound like a short-sighted thing to do, does it not? Strange that you didn’t bother to ask her, or me, about the nature of our relationship before you decided what it was, isn’t it?”

“You know, I think in the end I’m better off if this is the way she’s going to play this,” Will stated coldly.

Jean-Luc stared at the younger man’s angry face, calmly, his eyes half-lidded. The long silence grew longer, and Will became visibly uncomfortable, shifting in his chair. 

“She doesn’t play with people,” Jean-Luc said at last. “Neither do I. And you are definitely consistent.”

The bedroom door opened. He’d taken a chance, and lost -- Deanna emerged, slowly brushing her hair, and upon seeing him at the desk she smiled and went to the couch, probably assuming he was in the middle of reviewing reports, his usual use for the desk in his quarters. When Will’s voice came out of the monitor again, she blinked at him, staring in dismay, letting the brush drop from her hair to her lap where she fidgeted it around nervously.

“Why did you call me, Jean-Luc?”

“To see how you were doing, and tell you how much you’ve been missed. I do miss the friend that I believed I had, but I’m not quite certain yet whether he ever existed in the first place. Because I really never felt it was my place to pay any attention to your more intimate relationships, yet I’m finding in retrospect that your conduct in such affairs is rather more revealing of your character than I’d expected.”

The monitor went dark, abruptly. 

Well, then.

Deanna watched his approach and then gazed down at the floor. She started to brush her hair again. 

“That was a short nap.”

“I’m finding it difficult to sleep. Resting is hard work.”

“Sorry, you’ll have to appeal to your doctor for a reprieve. I’m just some guy who wandered in here.”

She gave the poor attempt a token smile. “You are a wonderful man,” she said, her eyes sweeping up to meet his. “But I hope you aren’t pushing away a good friend for my sake.”

“No, I’d say he is quite capable of alienating me all on his own.”

Now Deanna just looked sad. More than that, she was starting to look as she had during those two days of half-conscious tears and restless thrashing.

“Deanna, please tell me what I can do to help you feel better.”

“I’m just feeling so tired,” she exclaimed tearfully. “My body aches.”

“Picard to Crusher.”

Beverly was quick to arrive, and quick to act. She used the tricorder, looked up at him standing off to the side out of the way, touched his sleeve, and smiled. “She’s fine. Deanna, your ligaments are stretching. You have a little swelling in the ankles and feet, and I’m guessing you have some back pain again? Headache? Did you try to take a nap? I think you would feel better.”

“Yes, but I can’t sleep at all.” She was starting to edge into the slightly-hysterical tone that he’d heard before the miscarriage.

“Did Will yell at you?” Jean-Luc asked.

Beverly stared at her, nostrils flaring a little. “What happened, Dee?” She gripped Deanna’s wrist sympathetically. 

But Deanna shook her head and looked pained. And then her mother arrived, coming in without bothering to use the annunciator, and her anguished expression said she had sensed her daughter’s upset.

“Oh, my dear,” Lwaxana sighed, waving her hands in a gesture of appeal. 

“Do you want a sedative?” Beverly asked, ignoring Lwaxana.

Deanna appealed to Jean-Luc with tearful woe, and he sighed. “Give her the sedative, please. Deanna, you need to sleep.”

Beverly nodded and went with Deanna into the bedroom, reassuring her, walking with an arm over her shoulders, which Lwaxana watched with increased agitation -- she’d started to wring her hands. She whirled to Jean-Luc. “What is wrong with my daughter?” she demanded, sounding angry.

“What has she told you about how Will Riker has been treating her lately?”

A strange anguished expression twisted her features. Her hands went to her cheeks. “She said they argued… are you saying he did something to cause this? She’s usually so much stronger than this! She always -- oh, please tell me what’s wrong? Why won’t she tell me?”

“Will has been trying to convince her to leave, to go with him. He believes she agreed to do so, and he’s furious and hurt because she refused and stayed here on the Enterprise. She described the conversation they had, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s completely misunderstood and refuses to listen because he’s so furious about her supposed betrayal. Yesterday, he decided, based on information he gleaned from a conversation with Mr. Data, that she was lying to him.”

Lwaxana’s pained expression was terrible to look at -- overreacting, he thought, even for her. She covered her eyes and started to cry silent tears. Perhaps there was more to this than he’d believed.

“Has Will been communicating with you?”

“Oh,” she blurted, fluttering over and sitting on the couch. “Oh, I wish she had told me!”

“What has he been telling you?”

“Oh, Jean-Luc, I feel so terrible about all of this!”

“Mrs. Troi!” he snapped, and took a moment to recover himself. “Lwaxana. Please tell me what Will has told you.”

She had a fistful of her skirt twisted in both hands. “Why did he tell me they were engaged? It isn’t like him to lie. He was always so concerned about her.”

Jean-Luc sat down on the couch next to her, and debated whether to try a hand on the shoulder. He settled for looking her in the eye, with what he hoped was a concerned expression. “What do you mean?”

“He called me, sometimes. He would tell me how she was doing -- she never tells me everything, she thinks she’s protecting me -- she’s always been that way. The last time he called seven months ago he said that they were coming to Betazed, when he took command of his starship and they left the Enterprise, and that I would hear from her soon. I called her, when she didn’t call me -- I can’t stand the suspense you know and I was so happy -- “ Her hand flew to her mouth and she fought back a sob. It couldn’t be fighting back tears -- she was already crying, her voice wobbling haphazardly. She looked at Jean-Luc directly, finally, and let her hand drop again. “She started to cry. She was so upset -- she didn’t say a word, when I asked her what colors she wanted, for her wedding decorations, and whether she wanted to have it at Lake Elnara, or perhaps in front of the falls in Janara, she just kept shaking her head.”

“Did you tell her Will had told you they were getting married?”

“We didn’t talk about him at all. She didn’t talk about -- I felt so awful, Jean-Luc, it’s so heartbreaking to be across the quadrant from your child when she’s crying that way, I can’t understand any of this -- why hasn’t she been telling me anything?” Lwaxana wailed, falling over against him to throw her arms around him and sob on his shoulder.

Beverly chose that moment to emerge -- she heaved a great sigh and came over, putting her hands on Lwaxana’s shoulder and arm. “Mrs. Troi, please let me help you,” she said soothingly. “You’ve had a difficult time -- I know how it is, when your child is suffering and there’s not much you can do about it. Please let me walk you back to your quarters and give you a mild sedative. You’ll feel much better in the morning, we all will. Deanna’s asleep now.”

Lwaxana had to be peeled away, and she shook her head constantly and held her hand over her nose and mouth, but she let Beverly escort her from his quarters. Jean-Luc looked down at his soggy uniform and sniffed. 

“Bridge to captain -- sir, I have Captain Riker on subspace, for you,” came the high tenor of his chief of security. Lieutenant Reese had proven to be a reliable officer. 

“Thank you, Mr. Reese, put it through to my quarters, voice only.” He returned to the desk and manually adjusted down the volume. “Will?”

“We were disconnected earlier when we went to warp. Sorry.” A heavy sigh. “But it gave me a break from the conversation, and time to think about what you were saying. I’m sorry I lost my temper with you, Jean-Luc.”

He took a minute to recover from the surprise, and sat down heavily. “Will, I’m going to be honest with you about something you appear to not understand. I have on board a distraught Mrs. Troi who cannot string together coherent sentences to express her agony that she cannot get Deanna to tell her anything, and Deanna is still recovering from a miscarriage -- she lost one of the babies just last week. No one is in any condition to argue with you. We just had to sedate Deanna, because whatever you fought with her about today, she is wholly unable to defend herself or deal with the stress that caused her. So the fact that I have lost -- “

That was the sign, that he’d reached a point of exhaustion -- the break in his voice, a near-sob.

“I lost my son, Will, and you are being a fucking asshole for whom I have not a shred of pity whatsoever. I think that I would rather be assimilated than to see her cry again. I have no more patience to give, today. So I’m going to ask you to keep whatever else you have to say for later, maybe next month, or next year, because if I hear you complaining about her again I swear to you that I will find you and beat you through a bulkhead!”

Jean-Luc slammed a fist on the panel to cut the channel, and began to tear off his jacket as he headed into the bedroom. He threw it against the wall, followed by his shirt, his boots one at a time, and then sat heavily on the edge of the bed. Deanna was curled up in the center of the bed, clutching the pillow he’d been using in her arms. Wearily he ran his hands over his head.

“Picard to bridge -- I am off for the remainder of the day. Mr. LaForge, you have the watch.”

“Aye, sir. See you in the morning, Captain.”

He rolled into bed, draped an arm over her to rest his hand on her belly, and kissed the nape of her neck through her hair. He was surprised when she reacted, tucking her chin and languidly moving back against him.

“It’s going to be all right, Deanna.” 

She hummed quietly, and sighed. Still asleep. 

At least that much had gone well.

\-------------------------

Surprisingly, Lwaxana did not join them for breakfast, which was fine -- Jean-Luc took his time over coffee and pastries, watching her resolutely eat more than she wanted to, trying not to let herself fall back into her old habits. One of the things she was attempting to consume was a thick beverage Beverly had prescribed, in hopes of increasing her nutrient intake. 

“It’s horrible,” Deanna exclaimed, as she put the near-empty glass aside with a wince. 

“I thought it tasted like chocolate.”

“It does, but the consistency is more like glue.”

He watched her lean back and start to braid her hair. “You slept well, it seemed. How do you feel?”

“The pain Beverly mentioned is still there, but not as bad. I feel all right -- not back to my normal self, but not bad. The headache is gone. I’m going to wait an hour and try to eat something else. Oh, I feel like a whale,” she blurted, putting her hands on her abdomen. It wasn’t yet what it would be, he knew. She was carrying the baby out in front of her -- he’d seen pregnant women who had barely showed until the last couple of months, and others who seemed to have less space in the abdominal cavity and so the uterus would be pushed forward, and the baby bump turn into a huge round addition to the woman’s body, and Deanna was starting to head that direction. 

“Perhaps a warm bath, today? It would probably help your back. Data said he wanted to stop in as well. Perhaps play a round of chess. I might let you beat me soundly later as well, if you like.”

It put a happy smile in her eyes. “I’ve never played chess with you. Do you like chess?”

“It’s never been something I’ve excelled at -- shocking, I know, but none of the pieces have warp drives or shields, it’s not really my forte.”

He promised to return for lunch, and left for the bridge, crossing paths with Beverly on her way in. “How is she, Jean-Luc?”

“Not as well as she could be, but better. I told Will to leave us alone for a while.”

Beverly’s eyes flashed. “I have half a mind to call him myself.”

“Please don’t. I already threatened a beating if he didn’t stop agitating her.”

She stared at him, bit her lip, and put a hand on his shoulder briefly, then turned to head for his quarters. “If he tries to call again, I’ll throw in a beating of my own. I can’t believe he turned out to be such a possessive jerk. The way he treated Worf -- “ She shook her head at herself and quickened her step.

“Beverly,” he called sharply, turning to catch up to her. She stopped and half-turned. “What do you mean, the way he treated Worf?”

Her resigned expression said she didn’t want to, the set of her mouth said she was that angry that she would. “I thought you don’t like gossip.”

“At this point it’s information, not gossip.”

A wrinkle appeared over the bridge of her nose as her eyebrows rose. “Well, he kept scowling at him. Staring across Ten Forward at them. Worf even went to him and asked if Will was okay with it, before he ever approached Deanna, and Will said he was, but then there was the scowling, and the brooding, and the atmosphere around him got pretty tense if the two of them were in the vicinity. When Worf left it was amicable -- Deanna wasn’t angry, just incredibly sad, especially since she and Alexander had gotten so close. And apparently Alexander cried, and begged her, and begged Worf -- it was terrible, Jean-Luc. I think she felt worse about losing him than about Worf.”

“Where was I?” he exclaimed, though he knew it was irrational to be frustrated at this point. And there really was nothing he could have done, back then, if he had been aware. He knew well enough the high esteem that Worf had for Riker.

“You weren’t involved. As it should have been. What are you thinking?”

“How satisfying it would be to break Will’s nose. He’s going to be lucky if he ever sees her again, if I have anything to say about it.”

Unexpectedly, Beverly leaned and hugged him briefly, and hurried off to see Deanna without another word.

The bridge was as he’d expected. But Geordi watched him approach his chair with a Look. 

“Mr. LaForge?”

“Mr. Tellis on gamma watch reported a problem with the engines, sir. I have Mr. Carmichael on it -- he suspects it’s the plasma manifold, causing fluctuations. It hasn’t been a serious problem but it could be if we need high warp.”

“The one we replaced in the last refit? Whatever would we do without quality control? Keep me posted on that. Everything else ship shape? Have we heard from the Kidrin yet?”

“No, sir. All other systems are green across the board, and the comm’s been silent.”

“Good. I’ll be in the ready room. Let me know when we hear from the Kidrin representatives.” Jean-Luc veered left and went in, hesitating as he reached his desk. The pale green light indicating new messages was blinking as usual, but he dreaded what might be lurking. “Computer, do I have any messages from admirals?”

“Negative.”

He went to the replicator alcove for tea. “Computer, give me a list of transmissions with date stamps over the past five years, originating from Commander -- from Captain Riker while he was aboard, to Betazed.”

When Jean-Luc returned to his desk, his free hand clenched into a fist at the sight of ten headers for messages meeting the parameters he’d given. “Display my unheard messages.”

Sure enough, there was one from Will at the top. He asked for it to be displayed in text, rather than audio playback. The annunciator went off as he finished reading. “Come!”

“Good morning,” Lwaxana exclaimed happily. Today she had opted for a more subdued silver sequin-covered gown, with long swathes of fabric dangling at the elbows. It was as though yesterday had never happened. “I’m ready for another day with our friends. And how are you this morning, Jean-Luc?”

He contemplated whether this strange normalcy could be the manifestation of an illness, or possibly possession. “Fine, thank you.”

Her smile faded somewhat and she sat down and began spinning a ring on one of her fingers. “I have decided that you are a suitable husband for my daughter.”

He had been about to offer her tea, but instead raised his eyebrows and thought about the implications of her words. 

“I know, dear,” Lwaxana exclaimed, with less condescension than usual, “she can make her own decisions, and you’re absolutely correct. But she can be so swept away by the emotions of others, and love is such a powerful emotion.”

Jean-Luc crossed his arms and waited.

Her dark eyes took on a note of sadness, and her tone as she went on was one of resignation. “Will told me he wanted to make up for leaving her, all those years ago. He wanted to surprise her. He felt that they were becoming close again.”

“Lwaxana… did he ever say anything to you that gave you the idea that he might be coercing her in any way?”

Angry glints in her eyes preceding her sitting up. “If he dared -- “

The annunciator interrupted, and Dr. Crusher came in, smiling at Deanna’s mother as she stopped next to her chair. “Captain, I have to talk to you about something.”

“Would you wait for me on the bridge, please? Mr. LaForge can show you to the observation lounge, if you would like to replicate something to drink.”

Lwaxana went without a word, surprising Beverly. She watched the ambassador depart and took the chair she’d vacated. “I think you want to know this, Jean-Luc,” she said quietly. “Deanna was going through her messages when I went in. I think she got one from him. And I'd bet she's still really upset by whatever Will said yesterday. I think the biggest part of why she isn’t telling you everything is humiliation -- she’s aware that this situation is a result of her not being more assertive with Will, and it’s so embarrassing for her to admit it.”

“Will sent me a message this morning as well. He wanted to apologize, again, but the wording is suspect. I’m getting the impression he actually believes she is somehow obligated to be with him.”

“He thinks they are soul mates. He thinks it’s destiny. Oh, you anti-romantic, sneer at it if you like, but if it’s a matter of belief it’s going to be hard to shift that sense of entitlement.”

“I’m less and less interested in what he believes,” Jean-Luc said, picking up his tea. “She’s refusing to talk to him, for now, and her mother informed me this morning she’s decided I’m adequate for her daughter.”

“Be still, your beating heart,” Beverly exclaimed, hand to her heart.

“Indeed. Although I suspect it will make things easier, in the long run. I should get out there, the Kidrin will be calling any time now.”

“All right. I left her setting up the chess set with Data.”

“Thank you, Beverly.”

\----------------------

He arrived in his quarters to find Data staring at a chess board, and Deanna nowhere in sight. “Hello, Captain.”

“Did she escape?”

“She is in the bathroom, I believe.”

Jean-Luc went into the bedroom, and met her as she was returning. She’d brushed her hair out loose, and before he realized he was doing it his hand went out to tangle in the curly mass over her shoulder. 

“Well, hello,” she murmured with a smile, leaning in to kiss him. 

“I came to see if you would like to join us for lunch. The Kidrin, your mother, and some of the other senior staff are in the dining room on deck two.”

She bounced on her toes and hugged him tightly, and it underscored how depressed she had been simply due to being confined. “What should I wear?”

“Anything you like. Your mother promised to introduce you to Pavirr and Dendil. It’s not an official role you’ll take, she’s making friends and she's been bragging about her lovely daughter. I might have agreed with her.”

Turning, she looked at herself in the mirror over the dressing table, and her face fell. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“We’ll figure that out. I’ll ask Data to come back tomorrow.” He went back out and saw off their friend, and returned to find her sitting on the end of the bed. She was holding her sides, and bent forward.

“Deanna, what is it?”

“It’s starting to hurt more. It's been hurting all morning,” she exclaimed, in that wobbly way he hated to hear. Instead of expressing frustration, he sat with her, putting an arm around her, sliding his hand down her arm.

“Would you like to lie down for a bit? I can get some of your things from your old quarters while you rest.”

“Yes, thank you, I’ve been meaning to go….”

He made sure she was comfortable on her side before leaving, and rode down a deck and left the lift near her door. There were several people walking down the corridor away from him; this deck was much more populated. Ignoring them, he went in and headed into her bedroom. There was a bag in the bottom of the closet that he remembered she used for beach trips, and used it to collect underwear, jewelry, makeup and hair things, then added a handful of the looser-looking dresses he remembered her wearing recently, before the miscarriage. 

There was a short stack of paper books sitting on the night stand, and he went to pick them up, thinking it would give her some variety of activities to have them to read. But as he approached he saw that they were diaries, or journals, and wondered that she had them. Most people dictated personal logs, rather than use paper. He picked up the top one and flipped open the cover, and found that the lettering wasn’t in Standard. Except for the name at the top of the first page -- Deanna. He put them in the bag. Then he noticed the picture in a frame propped at the foot of the lamp. It was one he had never seen before, of himself, in uniform. He couldn’t remember ever posing for such a picture, standing on the bridge with a subdued smile, arms crossed. 

The bathroom had nothing she hadn’t already duplicated, except for a bottle of something that smelled vaguely floral that he assumed to be related to bathing. He remembered on the way out to pick up a few pairs of shoes, and in the living room he glanced around. It surprised him that she had such bare quarters. A small picture of her with her mother sat on an end table, next to a padd. He tossed the padd on top of everything else and left.

Deanna opened her eyes as he approached the bed, and sat up. “Thank you. I’m feeling a little better. I took some of the analgesic Beverly left.”

“I’ll just take a moment to make some room, while you put those away. I’m sure there’s plenty of things I can recycle. There's room in the closet already, since I tend to have a boring wardrobe to begin with.”

When he turned from digging out the contents of a drawer, she was holding the picture, smiling at it. Around her on the bed were piles of the rest of the contents of the bag. She put the frame on the night stand on what he considered her side of the bed, and reached in the bag, coming up with one of the three diaries. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a paper diary.”

Deanna stared at the book, losing her smile. “I should get rid of them.”

“Why?”

She dropped them back in the bag, and tossed it on the floor in the corner. “I’ll deal with them later.”

In the process of putting away things, she chose one of the dresses and some underwear, then pulled off the house dress and left it in a puddle on the carpet. When she struggled to fasten the bra he went to do it for her, and ended up with her arms around his neck.

“Good thing we aren’t in a hurry,” he murmured, sliding his hands down her back.

“I’m so glad you don’t mind my being here.”

“Don’t -- what?”

Deanna slipped out of his arms and threw the green dress over her head, settling it around her by increments, and smoothed it over herself, looking down at the length of the skirt. “I need to do my hair. I’m glad you got some of my earrings,” she said, poking through what was left on the bed.

“Have I given you the impression that you’re an imposition somehow?” 

She sat again, bending her head as she slipped a silver hoop into her lobe. “I wouldn’t say that. I feel a little… out of place.”

“Is there anything I should know, before I put in an order to combine our quarters?”

Deanna’s eyes came up. He found her surprise dismaying to say the least. She smiled, shaking her head and reaching for the other earring.

“Perhaps we should stay here, and talk over lunch,” he said. “It occurs to me that we haven’t discussed this. I don’t want to make assumptions and miss anything -- do you want to be here with me? If you want, we can just move your quarters, put in an adjoining door so we can access Renee’s room.”

She shrugged. “I’d like to live with you,” she said, in a small voice that he’d never heard her use.

It had to be Will, he thought, furious -- it had to be something that happened in whatever conversation she’d had with him. It had to be something he’d said to her. She had not been like this until now. She’d been sure of herself, sure of what she wanted, angry, confrontational even -- he had watched her pitch things at Will’s head. What the hell had Will said? 

But the train of thought screeched to a halt at the sight of her flinch. Because he was angry? She brought a hand to her face -- hiding behind it, he realized, as she started to cry.

“What did Will say to you?” he exclaimed. “What did he say about me? Why are you so afraid, all of a sudden?”

She looked over her shoulder, at the headboard, then at him with a determined stiffness. “He told me that you told him you would rather be assimilated than to see me cry again,” she said. With a gulp, trying not to cry again.

It floored him. He had to take a moment to recover himself. “Deanna,” he began, carefully, “he’s telling you something in a different context than was meant. I said that, however, I did not mean that I wouldn’t tolerate you being in distress. I meant that it -- that I hate to see you in such pain, that I'd much rather see you be happy. There is no way that he mistook the context. He’s trying to manipulate you.”

She flushed, her eyes going hard, and her fingers gripped the edge of the bed. Then she sobbed, caught herself, and she was off into an angry wail, the sound coming through her clenched teeth. When he came to hold her, shoving her things out of the way to sit with her, she clung to him.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, managing to sound furious without volume. “I didn’t want to believe him. I didn’t think it could be true, but he’s -- I didn’t think he’d ever lied to me, and he sounded concerned, and I was feeling so frustrated with -- I feel so helpless! I hate feeling sick all the time, feeling tired -- I can’t even sit and play chess for a few hours without taking a nap! It just made me feel like it could be true, that you might see me as -- “

“Stop,” he blurted. It sounded entirely too much like an order; he winced. “No more of this. No more Will. No more doubt. Please forget about anything he told you, and think about this -- have I lied to you? Done anything that made you think I might be losing interest? Why would I lose interest just a few days after I told you I love you? Does anything that’s happened over the past week support the idea that I’m frustrated by anything you’ve done? I suppose you might have picked up on the frustration and anger I’m feeling toward Will -- is that what’s happening?”

Deanna shook her head and wore a sort of perpetual wince. 

Jean-Luc remembered what Beverly had said, and thought about all the years of camaraderie and friendship -- it was, he thought, a difficult call. Which of his friends would he trust in a situation like this, with two of them at odds? Except Will was showing ever more disturbing behavior, and now it was clear it was more than simple misunderstanding. 

“You told me yesterday you are refusing all of Will’s calls. That you don’t want to talk to him again. I understand how much you want him to be the friend that he was. I know that you haven’t had the usual course of a relationship with me, that it’s been only a short time that we’ve talked about being together. If you want to be more sure of me, before you move in, take your time. I only want to be able to care for you and Renee. I can do that in separate quarters.”

“No. I knew better. I do know who you are, Jean-Luc. Better than I know who I am. I’m just too emotional right now -- I can’t think any more.”

Humiliated was what Beverly had said, and it was exactly what Deanna sounded like. He brought her head in to kiss her hair, and held her against his shoulder. “You can, if you rest and calm yourself. He said other things, didn’t he? He upset you.”

“I wish that I had understood him half as well as I believed. I can't believe that I was so blind.”

Jean-Luc sat holding her for a while, until her body had lost the tension and she breathed easily. “Do you remember the night after we lost Robert, when we cried together?”

She nodded -- it brought up more tears.

“I felt like that, when you helped me recover from assimilation. You were saying that it was only pain -- that it would pass. You were calm, and it helped me be calmer. That's how you helped me recover from the Borg. Let me help you with this. This confusion about Will, it’s simply too close right now to sort it out. It’s too painful. It will pass, and it will be clear to you."

Deanna sighed and pushed her face against his shoulder.

"I will be with you, for as long as you wish. I promise that I will never lie to you. I have no reason to, you’ve seen all my pain, I’ve told you so much more than I’ve ever told anyone. I trust you. I want to help you with this, just as you helped me.”

She nodded slowly against his shoulder. “I love you, Jean-Luc.” Her voice vibrated with feeling. “That hasn’t changed. I know that it won’t. I just need to stop letting the anxiety obscure it.”

Jean-Luc almost didn’t say anything, but knew that what he felt, that dark anger of being betrayed by someone he’d trusted, needed to be explained to her. “If he has been subtly trying to manipulate for a long time, keeping you off your balance in small ways, I can see how it would be difficult for you to notice he was doing it.”

Deanna tensed again, and went quiet, and he let her move as she pulled away, settling again next to him on the edge of the bed. He watched her face changing subtly. 

“I know what I’m going to do,” she said quietly. “I’m going to lay here and read my diaries, in between bathroom trips. I’m going to assess the possibility that I have been a victim of a long con.”

He smiled at the term -- one he was quite familiar with. “I know who could help.”

It was Counselor Troi, now, looking at him with the fond smile. “Who?”

“Dixon Hill.”

“Does Dix read Betazoid?”

“No, but he knows a computer that does….”


	5. Chapter 5

Beverly entered the captain’s quarters to find Lwaxana in residence, pacing. The ambassador whirled and hurried to her. “It’s about time,” Lwaxana exclaimed, “oh, hurry!”

Alarmed by this, Beverly ran into the open bedroom door, to find Deanna calmly ensconced in the bed, propped up on pillows. “I came to see how you are, this morning -- Deanna, what’s wrong?” she exclaimed, seeing as she came closer that her friend appeared sad.

“I don’t suppose you have any psylosynine inhibitor.”

The request took her aback. “I can get some. But I don’t allow people to self-prescribe. Why don’t you tell me a little more about what’s going on?” She perched on the edge of the bed and pulled the tricorder out of its holster on her belt. 

Deanna’s eyes were always expressive, never more so when her feelings were compounded by what she sensed from others, and as Beverly ran scans she noticed several books on the covers, on what she assumed to be Jean-Luc’s side of the bed. “He’s agitated.”

“I think you mean -- “ Beverly noticed then that Lwaxana had followed her in and stood wringing her hands. “Mrs. Troi, I don’t want to be rude, but can you please wait outside, close the door, so I can finish examining her?”

“Doctor -- “

“Mother, please,” Deanna said faintly. Which appeared to be more effective than shouting matches -- the ambassador hurried out and the door closed. “Sorry. She’s being hard to take, as well, she’s terrified, and nothing I can say reassures her. She keeps nosing in telepathically to see how I’m feeling. I wish she could calm down.”

“I’ll offer her something later, perhaps. I bet I could get her to take it if she knew it would help you. Now, what’s going on with Jean-Luc? I expected to see him here.”

“He’s been thinking hard since yesterday, and this morning he woke very early and got so agitated he left -- I think he’s in the ready room. He’s been….” Deanna started to cry, and get angry. “I hate crying! He’s anxious. I don’t know what about. He tried to reassure me that he would tell me all about it but right now he needs to think -- he doesn’t want to inflict it on me but he doesn’t understand I think that it doesn’t matter where on the ship he goes, I can -- “

“Deanna, stop for a minute. How are you feeling right now physically?”

“Tired,” she said, and looked it. She looked older, and stress put lines in her forehead and around her mouth. “It just aches, all over, and I can’t get rid of the headache. At the same time I just want to get up and run -- I feel trapped. I want to help him, like I always do. I want my job back. I don’t want to lay here any more, Beverly.”

Beverly studied the readouts -- there wasn’t anything dangerous going on, but it was clear from the blood chemistry, the general agitation, and the baby’s agitation there was plenty of stress at work. In fact, the way Deanna looked was just the way she’d been, before the miscarriage. “I’m going to have Lieutenant Ogawa come down here with a mild sedative and an inhibitor. You’re going to sleep, eat, and sleep some more. You haven’t even completely recovered from the miscarriage and you’re not going to if you don’t get some relief from this stress.”

Deanna looked at her with more anguish than usual. “Can you just put me to sleep? It’s not going to be any good. Mother will just flit around me all day worrying, even if I can’t sense it that will be just as bad.”

“You’ll need to come to sickbay. We can deal with your bodily functions while you’re out. I don’t really want to -- “

“You know me, Beverly,” she exclaimed tearfully. “You know I don’t resort to this sort of thing. You know I hate being so -- but I can’t recover. I keep trying to be rational, and focused, and I wanted to help him figure out why -- I want to know too -- but I can’t do it, and that’s almost worse than being in pain!”

Beverly studied her friend and tried to set aside all her concerns for her -- to assess, with the doctor’s skill. All the symptoms, plus her empathy, plus the situation, added up to more stress if Deanna continued as she had been. Perhaps a complete cessation of all activity would help her reset and then cope better -- and if Beverly could work on Lwaxana, to help her be a better support and less of a drain, so much the better.

And, Jean-Luc, whatever he was doing, might get it done and revert to the supportive, concerned father, instead of continuing on this tangent that clearly was some misguided quest of his. She had been angry at Will right along with him, but she’d expected him to set that aside, as he had proven how aware he was of Deanna’s sensitivity -- what the hell was he up to? 

Well, she could figure that out from Jean-Luc. As well as give him a piece of her mind.

“Come to sickbay with me. Let’s do it right, if we’re going to do it. How does twenty-four hours of complete rest sound?”

\-----------------------

After giving Lwaxana a mild sedative and leaving her to sit with her unconscious daughter, Beverly left sickbay. Her walk became a march, became a full stalk as she left the lift on the bridge. The ship was under way -- back to Federation space, now that friendly relations with the Kidrin had begun, and reports were filed. This would be the recovery period, between missions, when they would have fun on the holodeck or do all the routine things suspended while a crisis was under way. 

When he let her in, she flew into the ready room and halted -- all ire forgotten. He was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, thumbs pushing the sides of his nose, knuckles to forehead -- not his usual. And as she recovered enough to finish approaching and seating herself, he dropped his hands, resting forearms on the desk in front of him, and his eyes were red-rimmed. She’d never seen that before. 

“How is she?” he exclaimed, in a clipped voice that said volumes about how it was affecting him. It dissolved her anger and triggered sympathy.

“Everything is fine -- the baby is fine, she’s physically fine -- but.” Beverly took a few seconds to consider phrasing. “She was so stressed and anxious, and her body is starting to react to that in ways that concerned me. I discussed it with her and she agreed to let me put her in sickbay, sedated, to give her system a complete rest. It has the fringe benefit of her mother’s hovering being less bothersome to her. I gave Lwaxana a mild sedative as well, and after she’s had a bit to think about what I told her, I’m going to give her a few hours of boot camp -- caring for your empathic daughter without driving her crazy. Only I think Lwaxana’s stress is partly due to what she sees as her contribution to the bad behavior of Will Riker -- she feels like it’s her fault.”

Jean-Luc stared at her, and she almost asked what was going on, demanded to know what he was doing, obsessing about this -- but as he had done from time to time over the years, he shocked her. 

“I want you to look at Will’s medical records for the past five years.”

“What?” 

“I want you to tell me when they changed. When evidence of a fracture of the arm that he never sustained appears in his records.”

Beverly leaned back in the chair, tried to make sense of the request, scrambling through all the possible reasons he could have for such a thing. It dawned on her in a wave of anxious excitement.

“You think it’s not Will at all,” she breathed. 

He rose and began the slow pace of the detective, winding out the soliloquy at the end of the murder mystery, but without any satisfaction whatsoever in his conclusions. He halted for a moment, staring into the replicator alcove as if considering, and then resumed a wander around the end of the desk, coming to rest against the edge of it, shoulders hunched.

“I think Thomas Riker found Will, while we were on other assignments, after the Enterprise was destroyed at Veridian. I think when he came back from that long leave between assignments Thomas began to focus on a campaign, to get Deanna back for good. And when she demonstrated that she had changed herself over time, and continued to treat him as her very good friend and nothing more, he had to alter his tactics, become manipulative in very subtle ways. She was keeping journals on paper during that period. She’d started to do so in an attempt to help herself understand her own feelings, her own thoughts, make better decisions, because she was becoming confused -- he was giving her messages that weren’t consistent with what she’d known from Will before. I helped her look through some of those journal entries -- in addition to everything else that you, Deanna and Lwaxana, have told me, it led me to think about why -- why the hell would that happen, when she gave him absolutely no sign of interest? When she rebuffed him repeatedly?”

It made sense. Beverly nodded. “Geordi, too. Geordi told me -- but that’s beside the point, now. If what you are saying is all true -- where is Will?”

“The only thing that makes sense is for Will to have taken Thomas’ place in prison. He was in the Maquis, and then in a Cardassian prison camp, and then when the Cardassian government failed in the wake of the Dominion War, he spent some time on the run -- and then he was apprehended and convicted of stealing a small vessel, and put in a Federation prison with a ten year sentence.” This review of records must have been part of what he’d done this morning. Jean-Luc shook his head slowly, eyes closed, looking exhausted himself. “The only thing that makes sense is that Thomas somehow broke out -- then it would have been easy, to find Will, incapacitate him, swap clothing, take the injured Will to turn him in -- the doctors wouldn’t necessarily be so thorough, and Will’s desperate claims that he wasn’t Thomas would be perfectly understandable.”

“This is an incredible claim to make, Jean-Luc,” Beverly exclaimed. 

“But it makes more sense than to think Will Riker would -- “ There it was, the rage, pouring out in a rush. Jean-Luc rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Beverly. Think about the Will we have known, for years. He wasn’t manipulative. Selfish sometimes, impulsive sometimes, but he wasn’t like this! Will Riker was our friend! I can believe he had difficulty seeing her with Worf -- I can believe that he had difficulty sorting out his own feelings, about a woman he had been in love with, and that he might have gone back and forth over the years, trying to decide what to do, whether to -- I can believe so many things about him. I can even see that he might be angry about the current circumstance. But my friend, Will Riker, would give up his life for any of us. He wouldn’t have used my own words against me, trying to alienate her from me! He wouldn’t be this way to her when she’s struggling so much with a pregnancy! He cared about her more than this!”

Beverly set aside questions about some of it -- she had no idea what had transpired between Will and Deanna -- but that was immaterial at the moment. “I agree that none of it sounds at all like him -- but what if it really is him? You know that people change, sometimes radically.” Case in point standing in front of her, she thought wryly.

“Check the medical records,” Jean-Luc ordered, with the finality that said he was convinced of the reality he’d defined.

“And if what I find doesn’t support your deductions?”

“Then we’ll change course for Risa, instead of the penal colony on Dramia IV, and I’ll grieve the loss of a good friend in addition to the loss of my son.” Jean-Luc crossed his arms and leveled a serious gaze at her, and waited. 

“Okay. I’ll check. I’ll be thorough and methodical, and I’ll let you know.” She stood up, put her hands on his shoulder, leaned in. “And when she is awake you will go back to being more concerned about her, than any Riker?”

His eyes flashed angrily, his mouth turning into a frown. “I am doing this for her, more than anyone else. I’m going to tell her everything when she wakes.”

“And stress her out all over again?” Beverly said, her tone hard. 

“One thing emerges from all the journal entries, that she never actually said in so many words. She cares about Will, and she knows there has been something wrong. She couldn’t articulate it. But she knew, and it’s going to continue to stress her, until there is some resolution.” 

Something changed, as he spoke, and Beverly thought he seemed anguished. As she stood back, crossing her own arms, she considered it. “If we get Will Riker back, what will you do, if she … you know she’s gone back and forth, all this time, about him.”

The expression in his eyes flickered dread and fear, before he turned away and dodged her entirely, heading into the alcove to order Earl Grey, hot. He brought the cup and set it on the desk, yanked at his jacket, sat down. 

“She can make whatever decision she chooses,” he snapped. Then he sat like a statue for a moment. 

Beverly started to turn to go, and hesitated as he continued, unexpectedly.

“It’s only pain,” he said softly, with horrible, horrible conviction.

She stared at the opposite end of the ready room, tears rolling down her cheeks, breathing through her mouth for a bit, composing herself, and bit her lower lip. She strode out of the ready room with a furious determination.


	6. Chapter 6

Deanna gradually regained control of her body; she had become aware of sickbay noises long before she was able to open her eyes, and lay drowsing in a semi-attentive state for a while. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she started to try -- opening her eyes took effort.

“Jean-Luc,” she murmured, smiling up at him. Trying to. He looked sad, but was clearly happy to see her awake. His hand went to her belly, where Renee slumbered unmoving. Deanna couldn’t sense anyone else in the vicinity, and reached for him -- he took her hand and leaned in to kiss her. On the lips, lingering, touching her hair.

“Beverly let you come out of it naturally. You must have been really tired, it took more than twelve hours past her estimate,” he said, chuckling. “Are you ready to come home?”

She sat up slowly, and he watched her anxiously as she slid down from the biobed. She noticed then the state of the lighting. In sickbay, generally, the lights were kept higher than the rest of the ship, but there was no one else in care at the moment and it was obviously ship’s night.

“Everyone else is in bed?”

“Yes. How do you feel?”

“Quite good, actually.” Deanna walked with him out of sickbay. He took her hand, walked close, gave her a hug in the lift. “You’re in a good mood. I’m so glad -- does that mean you resolved -- “

As she said the words, his mood dipped. But he recovered almost at once, kissing the side of her neck as he held her, rubbing down her spine. 

If he had found out more, if he had come to some conclusion, he would be telling her. Or so she told herself. She wondered if he weren’t simply trying not to stress her -- he’d worried about that. At this point she was inclined to go along with him, relax, enjoy some time with him. It was tempting to ask where the ship was headed; Mother had told her that discussions with the Kidrin were done and pronounced herself free to spend time with her daughter, which had only increased her anxiety.

She replicated some vegetables. He smiled, and brought the chess board to the couch. “I didn’t get a chance to play a game with you. Are you up to it?”

“That sounds like fun, actually. I don’t think I could sleep just yet anyway.” She ate while he arranged the pieces to set up for the game.

“I’ve been thinking about retiring,” he said casually, moving a pawn forward.

It distracted her for a second. She led out with one of her own pawns, then watched him slide a bishop half across the board, and took a moment to reassess. “I’ve considered that as well, at times.”

He watched her put down her knight. “I wasn’t aware of that. You still have a lot of possibilities, ahead of you.”

“I know. It’s perhaps a cliche, to think about things differently when you’re having a child. But now that I’m seeing what I am up against, just being a counselor and pregnant, it makes me question. I think about what it would be like, living as Mother did. In a house, with the children.”

At the hint of more children, his eyes flicked up from the board to meet hers. He watched her eat a carrot. “Am I in the house too?”

Deanna scowled at him. “Of course you are,” she exclaimed. “But I know also how much you enjoy what you do.”

“I just think about what it would be like -- not being on a dying world, able to raise children and build cabinets, and play music, and enjoy the non-violent, non-political, entirely domestic adventures inherent in the simple life of a family man. Being able to spend a morning watching a daughter play in the yard, drinking coffee….”

“Your wife coming out to sit in your lap,” she added, watching him send a knight out to defend.

“Yes,” he said, grinning fondly. His eyes were on her fingers, moving the queen’s bishop. “My pregnant wife, wanting me to follow her back to bed.”

Deanna sighed. She could almost see it -- leaning in, kissing him, tempting him back to a wide bed in a sunny open room. Having all the time in the world to have his lips roaming her body, his hands, and having the quiet of a bright day to lounge and drink tea with him afterward. “Are we on Earth?”

“Not necessarily. Marie tells me people show up sometimes at the house, trying to contact me. I think somewhere anonymous, where you could wander the house naked, give me unrestricted access without fear of unexpected guests.”

That surprised her utterly -- then again, why would he ever have said something like that to her, before they were in love? She smiled again, moved a pawn to block his king’s bishop. “You don’t care for negligee?”

“For variety, sometimes. I see you in black, perhaps something more scant than lace?”

Deanna shifted slightly, looking down at herself, still in the plain white gown she’d changed into, for her extended stay in sickbay. “Quite the opposite of the current dress code. I think perhaps a bit of lace, across the bra. I would have my hair all in curls, because I would have all the time it takes to do my hair. Between babies I could get my figure back and do a nice negligee justice.”

Jean-Luc had removed a pawn of hers, with his rook. “How many babies?”

“I’m not ready to put a number to it -- I believe I’ll know when I’m done with having children. Just as I knew when I was done with looking for a husband to have them with.”

It made an impact she sensed at once. Like a punch to the gut -- he kept his attention on the board, and his lips trembled with a gradual smile of satisfaction. “You don’t have a husband,” he said softly. 

“I’m not so strict on defining such things, really. I feel that I do. The rest is all technicalities that can be handled when we have the time.”

He started to feel a little anxiety, lose the ends of his smile, but tried hard to set it aside. With a head shake, he refocused and watched her challenge his king with a bishop. 

“Tell me.”

“I -- “ Jean-Luc fidgeted, rose from the couch, took her empty plate as his distraction tactic, recycling it. Then he paced in a circle, returning to the couch with a determined expression. Carefully setting the game he was losing on the coffee table, he sat in its place and took her hands. “I can’t expect you to commit to me, when it’s only been a few months of feeling as you do for me, and just a week and a half if that since we -- since we started to talk, like this, about being together.”

“You were the one who started the conversation.”

“Yes, and I do want to have the conversation, I do want to be with you more than -- it has me thinking about how very satisfying it is, to be with you, and how I would enjoy just the scenario we were talking about.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. It sounds wonderful to me.” Deanna kept smiling, gripping his fingers tightly. “It’s not as though we couldn’t do that for a while, and go back into Starfleet, or you could be an archaeologist -- there are still extensive digs on many Federation worlds. We could take the children, set up housekeeping, I can have a private practice while we’re there. When we want to move, we move. You could decide to be an ambassador. I could. We could be whatever we wish to be. It’s not that hard.”

It was as though she’d opened up the heavens, and illuminated his world. “You would simply walk away, from your career? For me?”

“No, not at all! It’s not giving up anything -- it’s that I want to be with you, wherever you are. Working with you is what I miss, being here all day and not on the bridge. The counseling is perfectly fine but it’s not the best part of my days on this ship. I used to think it was just enjoyment of my status as an officer, but when I was offered the position at the Academy last year I realized that I’m really happier here, with you, than I would be anywhere else. We work well together in whatever we are doing. Being in love with you wasn’t the beginning of that -- you’ve been one of my best friends, and everything we’ve done together has been so much more rewarding because of that. I can always return to Starfleet later if I like.”

He beamed at her, and she sensed it coming as he leaned in to kiss her. His arms went around her when her hands found his head. 

“How do you feel?” he whispered, his lips grazing along her cheek. 

Deanna giggled, the desire pooling in her abdomen. “Neglected.”

One of his hands rubbed along her distended belly, which she swore had to have grown an inch in the thirty-some hours she’d spent unconscious. “There are positions that work better for this stage,” he murmured.

“Perhaps you should tell me about them.”

“Oh, yes…. Or show you?”

As it turned out, propping herself up on many cushions while he slid into her from behind was a particularly nice one. As was reclining against him in the bath, with his fingers finding more ways to make her say his name, and lying on her side in bed while he applied his tongue. 

However, she also quite liked having him fall asleep happy, and relaxing into a sated bliss that she hoped she could find her way back to repeatedly. 

\---------------------------

Deanna returned from the bathroom, and upon looking up before climbing back in bed with him, she saw a shift in the stars. Not dropping out of warp, but perhaps slowing down. She slipped into bed and onto her left side, pulling the pillow under her belly as it had started to feel more comfortable with support.

He came awake, even though she had tried not to disturb him, and his hands roamed her bare skin and settled on Renee, as his chest pressed wiry hairs along her back. “Love you,” he murmured sleepily.

“Where are we going now that Kidrin is done?”

It sobered him, woke him up a little more. He kissed her shoulder and rested his chin there, his nose almost in her ear. “Beverly discovered something about our former first officer. He wasn’t Will.”

Deanna almost vaulted out of bed, but caught herself after sitting up and finding her movement so restricted by her belly -- a twinge of warning pain was enough to bring her to a halt, and she caught herself before starting to actually sob. “Thomas? It was _Thomas_ \-- but he wouldn’t! Why, why would he do that to Will?”

“Lie down, Deanna, please. Please?”

The concern in his voice made enough of an impact -- it was enough to remind her that she’d just spent a day and a half out cold in sickbay, because of stress related to the people in their lives. She obeyed, closing her eyes as his arms went around her again.

“I’m sure the answer is obvious enough, now that you’re calm. We’re on the way to the prison where Thomas is recorded to be -- he spent time in the Maquis, in a Cardassian labor camp, and then in Federation custody. There’s been no bulletins featuring warrants for his arrest, so I can only assume that means he’s put Will back in custody in his stead.”

“But -- Thomas has command of a starship that Will is -- my god, this explains so much,” she said, as she thought about all the things that had seemed off. “I never would have imagined that Thomas would ever… he said he would come back around for me, some day… then I heard about the Maquis. I knew he was lost to me forever at that point.”

Jean-Luc was going through a myriad of emotions, thinking about it, but he held her firmly his arms, one atop her belly and the other beneath it with his hand splayed over her belly button. “He’s not been terribly successful, as a starship captain. There’s a court-martial in progress. I found out when I contacted Admiral Whitaker, to tell him where we were going and why -- I explained everything and forwarded the records Beverly has, that show the only real difference between Will and Thomas -- that healed fracture of the arm, that occurred on Nervala while Thomas was there.”

“Oh, Will,” Deanna sighed, thinking about how captivity must have been for him. “He’s been locked up all this time!” She lost herself in thinking about how much Will would need counseling -- she hoped fervently that he wouldn’t have developed more of an aversion to it, and thought about counselors she knew at Command that she could refer him to, because he’d have to be on extended leave, no way he would adjust if he went straight back to duty. 

She became aware that Jean-Luc was becoming increasingly anxious, and that he was trying not to be, intentionally slowing his breathing. And then she thought about Will -- they were going to get him, which Jean-Luc was obviously determined to do. He had been anxious, just last night, about her committing to him without the benefit of time together to know that she really wanted to, and he hadn’t told her about Will immediately. He would have under normal circumstances -- he had always been truthful with her, even with uncomfortable situations where he wasn’t confident he knew what to say. There had been times over the years that he had dealt with her in some horrible circumstance -- when she had lost her empathic abilities, when she had been pregnant with Ian -- and he had never hesitated to approach her with the truth, even if it had been upsetting, because he always treated her as if she could handle it. This time, he hadn’t simply told her; she reasoned that it had to be because he couldn’t handle it.

Deanna moaned.

“What is it?” He pulled away, sitting up on his elbow, brushing hair back from her face. “Deanna?”

“I was just thinking of how horrible it’s been, for Will, how much help he will need. I hope I can connect him to a good counselor. We should take him to Earth, I know a few there.” She shoved at the pillow, trying to get it in a better spot under her belly. “He’ll be happy for us, I think, once he’s over the shock. I’ll have to break it to him gently that we aren’t naming any of the children after him. I have a long list of names that I like and William is not on it.”

He reached over her and pulled the pillow completely out, tossed it aside, picked up another from the head of the bed, and tucked it beneath her. “Better?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.”

“Can you go back to sleep? You need it, even though I know you’re probably sick of it.”

“Maybe if you massage that part of my back that’s always sore? It’s hurting again,” she said, though the minimal pain was not really bothering her much at all and she was sure she’d fall asleep again shortly without help. 

But it gave her a chance to enjoy him, feeling perfectly happy, tending her needs with a strong hand and completely free of that anxiety he’d been plagued with for days. 

\---------------------

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Deanna turned, fastening the third pip in the collar of her uniform. The maternity version -- she hated it, the jacket made her look big as a house. “I do. Are you coming?”

Jean-Luc contemplated her, head tilted, then reached out -- she went to him and took his hand, and they left their quarters. 

It had taken eight days to get to Dramia, and now it would be a shuttle ride to the orbiting penal colony, going through the security checks and all the procedures in place to keep others out and prisoners in. Since Thomas’ breakout there had been no others -- the warden had instituted a strict, redundant set of restrictions and protections against it happening again. 

Beverly joined them in the shuttle bay, along with Data. Geordi was on the bridge, but had expressed interest in going as well. 

“Stop,” Deanna snapped at Beverly, who was giving her a visual once-over. “I’m fine.”

“Let me know if I accidentally look at her again, Data, so I don’t bother her,” Beverly said. 

“If you wish. However, I suspect that you are merely being sarcastic.” Data sat down in the pilot’s chair. 

“I’ve been fine for days. I really will tell you, if that changes. I promise.” Deanna patted her large belly bulge as she settled in the seat behind Data, one of the two without arms. 

“And if she doesn’t, I will,” Jean-Luc said, taking the seat next to Data at ops. 

Leaving the shuttle bay, they skimmed around the aft nacelle and traveled along the length of the Enterprise before they were in open space, heading for the space station in front of them. Deanna closed her eyes -- she could sense Will, waiting, impatient and excited. They’d told him, of course. His release had already been orchestrated by admirals, with the firm evidence of medical records in hand. Beverly had not only showed the sudden appearance of the healed fracture in his records, documented in the technical data of all the scans she’d run during that initial physical exam at the beginning of a tour of duty, but further digging on her part had enumerated all the traces of substances and radiation levels to which William Riker had never been exposed -- labor camps and Maquis vessels were not so clean and safe as a ship of the line, and there had been no missions during which Will could have been exposed to them. There had also been a healed fracture in the leg, obviously incurred during Tom’s time in the Maquis and regenerated. 

The jolt of the shuttle docking startled her out of her near-nap; she’d started to doze, she realized. She stood up, wavered slightly at a sudden lightheaded sensation, and steadied herself with a hand on a console. Jean-Luc waited, concerned, and she smiled reassuringly at him. 

The slow progression from an airlock to another airlock, to another locked door that their escorting security officer had to open with a retinal scan, led them to a long corridor, at the end of which -- surprise surprise -- was another door. To another corridor, and a row of doors. The officer showed them through the third one, into a bare white room with a circle of chairs, bolted to the floor. Will Riker came up out of one of the chairs as they entered. The door closed behind them, and everyone froze for a few seconds. 

Will’s shock had, Deanna thought, put them into a state of uncertainty. She stepped forward, reaching out with one hand, grinning happily. “Will, it’s so good to see you!”

A familiar grin -- but not as bright as it might have been, she suspected. He rushed her, hugged her awkwardly around her belly, let go, and after a pause grabbed Beverly to do the same. He gripped Data by the shoulders, greeting him enthusiastically, and then as he turned to his captain he settled a little, reaching to shake hands. 

Jean-Luc surprised Will, and everyone else, by taking the hand then coming in for a brief embrace of his old friend. He looked a little bright-eyed. “It’s good to see you, Will. You have no idea how much you’ve been missed.”

“What did Thomas do?” Will exclaimed. His eyes, as he turned, landed on Deanna’s belly.

“He didn’t do that, so stop that, mister,” Deanna exclaimed playfully. “He’s in the middle of a court-martial and I suspect when you’re ready to go back to work, the Titan will be waiting for you.”

“I was moved out of a cell into quarters when the warden was informed about the switch. I’ve read all the things he added to my service record, the logs he left -- that asshole was almost too convincing, wasn’t he?”

The door opened, and a tall man in a commodore’s uniform came in with a padd, a lieutenant with a bag at his side. “Commodore Garrity, sir,” he exclaimed, shaking hands with Jean-Luc. He smiled at Will. “I’ve brought the personal possessions you had with you when you arrived, and your official pardon.”

Will took the offered bag and the padd. “Thank you, Commodore. I hope you don’t take offense if I tell you I never want to see you or this place again.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Garrity exclaimed. He glanced at Beverly, at Deanna, and bowed slightly. “You’re free to go. I wish you all success, now that you’ve been cleared, and I apologize, again, for the misunderstanding.”

They were all silent on the way back through all the doors. When they reached the shuttle at last, Will sighed. “I almost want to hug the damn shuttle,” he muttered. 

“Joy is to be expected,” Data said. “It is most certainly called for. To be released after nearly four years of unjust imprisonment I would say -- “

“Shut up, Data,” Jean-Luc said, with some affection to soften the order. 

“So whose is it,” Will blurted, unable to contain himself any longer. He turned to Deanna. “Is it… the first? Second?”

There was no anger behind it. Concern, yes, but she sensed no real irritation or suspicion, or jealousy. But from Jean-Luc, anxiety -- she could tell that fear was back. He masked it by continuing to walk, toward the open door in the side of the shuttle.

Deanna shrugged a little and went after Jean-Luc, and when he stopped to let her go through the door first, she stepped inside, reached back, took his hand, drew him into the shuttle after her. 

Beverly came in next, her eyes full of mirth and her mouth a tight line as she worked not to laugh. Data, as he entered, was already talking. “She has had difficulty, however, we have all been watching her closely and making her rest. We have played chess each afternoon, unless duty hinders me. There is a betting pool among the senior staff. Excluding the captain, of course.”

Jean-Luc gave her a look. She rolled her eyes and went to sit in the pilot’s seat, folding back the arms of the chair. “Seal the door, Mr. Data,” she ordered.

She noticed, as she did the pre-flight checks, that Will sat in the secondary ops position behind Jean-Luc, who was signaling the station of their departure. Turning to look at Jean-Luc, she twitched her eyebrows in question. 

“You could always let Beverly fly it,” he commented. 

“I would be happy to -- “

“Sit down, Mr. Data.” Deanna flicked the impulse engines to full power, tapped a few more controls and the shuttle left the station smoothly. 

“There should be seat belts,” Beverly said, for about the thousandth time in Deanna’s memory. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t come out and installed them yourself, after all the times you’ve said that,” Jean-Luc said. His smirk said he was teasing their friend right back, for teasing Deanna. 

“I’m starting to feel at home already,” Will said happily. He had recovered from his moments of disbelief, and though Deanna could tell she had a long talk with him ahead of her, she thought things would be all right, with him. 

“I’m sensing an Immelmann, sir,” Deanna announced, hovering her hand over the inertial dampeners. 

“I knew you were getting tired of being pregnant, but that’s a ridiculous way to attempt to start labor,” Jean-Luc said. “More irrational behavior on your part. Get away from the artificial gravity,” he added, pointing at her right hand, wandering over that way. 

“A pink alert,” Data said.

“I’m right here, you know,” Deanna warned. “There’s a phaser under the console.”

“Wait, I’m missing critical information,” Beverly said.

Deanna scowled at Jean-Luc’s chuckling. “It’s a joke they have on the bridge, Geordi calls a pink alert if I’m starting to be irritable.”

“The standard procedure is to replicate fudge,” Data supplied helpfully. 

“Are we at all concerned by this situation?” Will asked. 

Jean-Luc looked over his shoulder at him, for that. “Situation?”

“Isn’t there usually some consequence to having the captain in a shuttle for more than a few minutes?”

“There’s nothing to crash into, and I had Geordi maintain a transporter lock on him for the duration of the trip,” Deanna said calmly. 

Jean-Luc gave her the classic Picard indignant glare, and turned back to his board with just a hint of a smirk. Then he glanced at Deanna, the smirk growing, and she nodded. 

The landing was flawless -- and she turned off the viewscreen, executing the docking process by instruments only, and she knew Will was watching her with some incredulity. As she stood up she grabbed her back, stooping, wincing, and Jean-Luc was there to take her arm. 

“And thus the wisdom of having Beverly along becomes clear,” he said, as the doctor came forward.

“It’s just the same stupid place, acting up. I’m all right.” 

The delay put Will at the door first, when he finally stopped being so concerned and started to move, and Data followed him first. Deanna knew he suspected nothing -- so when he opened the door and a wave of shouting and music and confetti hit him, he was completely shocked. 

The shuttle bay was filled with party -- balloons, streamers, kazoos, the ship’s brass ensemble playing merry music -- and Deanna stepped out and watched Will buffeted along as crew welcomed him home. Geordi was there at the front of the crowd, wearing his party hat. Data, Beverly, and Jean-Luc came out and stood with her against the shuttle. 

“Unsurprisingly, I need to go,” Deanna said. 

“I’ll take you home,” Jean-Luc replied as Lwaxana threw a lei around Will’s neck and put a party hat on his head. 

“I’m glad you keep finding jobs for Mother, while she’s here.” Deanna sidled past incoming crew just arriving for the party. 

“She seems to enjoy throwing parties. Being a hostess seems to agree with her.” Jean-Luc snorted, as they exited the shuttle bay and headed for the nearest lift. “Perhaps we need a ship’s party organizer, for the rest of her stay.”

“You could give her the lounge, let her re-create Ten Forward.” 

“Is she still driving you crazy?”

“When Beverly lets me go to half duty schedule, could you conveniently have Mother tending bar when I’m off duty?”

“Normally I don’t indulge in favoritism, but the health of my child is at stake -- consider it done.”

As they returned to quarters, she started to really feel the pain in her back, and started to slow down. She made it the rest of the way into the bedroom and unfastened the pants as she went. Jean-Luc followed her, slowly, making sure she made it.

“I’m thinking of complaining about the maternity uniform design,” Jean-Luc said. “After watching you fight with it, I’m getting the impression some man designed it.”

“Probably the same demented sadist who came up with the regulation underwear.”

With a little help from him she peeled away all the layers, jacket, shirt, the pants with the huge flat waistband that was supposed to conform and contour and inevitably rolled down into a stiff fold that cut into the bottom of her belly, and then she sat on the edge of the bed to catch her breath. 

“You’re not wearing regulation underwear,” he commented, discarding the pieces of uniform. “Or any other kind.”

“God, no. Horrible things. They itch. And I hate trying to find panties that fit -- they all look like tents to me.”

“You’re probably going to have a guest coming to see you before long, you know.” There was the anxiety, again.

“I’m -- oh,” she gasped. A sharp jab in her lower back sent radiating pain through her.

“Deanna?” His worry prickled, as the brief pain subsided.

“She kicks like a horse! God, that was the worst one yet.”

Jean-Luc stood in front of her and held out his hands. She took them, and let him help her up, unnecessarily. “Dress?”

“I wish there was one that didn’t make me look like a bloated drinking straw.”

“You complained that the bigger ones made you look cylindrical.”

She chose the pink one, and he helped her settle it around her and ran a hand over Renee, who chose the moment to attempt to punch her way out. He held still, going a bit wide-eyed. 

“Not what I signed up for, but it’s what I have,” she said, trying to sound placid, not pained. A little moisture had gathered in the corners of her eyes. “I’m given to understand that this is the way it will be, until labor starts and the real pain begins.”

“You can stay on leave,” he said. If it hadn’t been so gently said, she’d have taken offense. She went for the living room, slowly, silently begging the baby to stop and take a nap.

Beverly arrived as he was propping up her feet. Deanna gave her a pleading look, and she smiled sympathetically. “So that was your exercise for the day,” she said, striding over to the couch. 

“Is it… common for it to hurt, when the baby kicks?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Perhaps it’s part of the Picard genome, to wear hobnailed boots in the womb?” Deanna blurted, as another kick landed down at the bottom, near her bladder, into something that felt too sensitive. “OW! My back already hurts, this is making it worse.”

Beverly frowned and directed Jean-Luc to get a hot pad from the replicator. “This is a little unusual, for six months along. You may be a little ahead of your schedule, but I’m not seeing anything alarming,” she said, watching the tricorder readouts. “I hope you’re remembering to do the stretches and taking walks?”

“I can’t really sit still for long, so yes. OW! Damn it!”

“Sit down, Jean-Luc,” Beverly exclaimed, taking the pad from him. “Let’s put this under your hips. The party is still going, so I slipped out to check on you -- that was a lot more walking that I thought it would be, and I knew you haven’t been so active that it would be easy for you. How’s she situated? Mind if I check a little more directly, the old-fashioned way?”

Deanna watched her push and prod around, and felt the baby shift. “What did you do?”

“There’s enough room to shift her a little. Hopefully I pointed her little hobnailed boots away from your sacrum.”

“Thank you. Now all I need is an intravenous supply of -- “

“Chocolate ice cream,” Jean-Luc filled in, heading for the replicator again. “A spoon will have to do, I’m afraid.”

And as he handed it off to her, the bridge interrupted, and he was gone, not without a worried glance over his shoulder.

“I’m glad things are better than they were,” Beverly said. 

“Yes, and no.”

Sympathy radiated from Beverly. “Are you nervous, about talking to Will?”

Deanna considered avoiding the subject of her anxiety. For the week prior to this moment, Jean-Luc had been solid, happy, even when Will came up in conversation. She had wondered if that would change when they saw him, and it had. When Will hugged her the way he always had, it had sparked anxiety. She’d defrayed it somewhat when she had taken Jean-Luc’s hand, telling Will without a word how things were, but Jean-Luc had not left willingly, and had actually felt what she would call dread.

“Or is it Jean-Luc, who’s nervous?” Beverly went on, proving that she was the shrewd observer Deanna knew her to be. 

“All of the above.”

“I can stick around, if you want.”

Deanna reached up to plump the pillow beneath her head. “I don’t need a chaperone, thanks.”

“I’m not surprised that he’s worried, Deanna, after watching Will for years, the way he always was with you. I know you always said you were just close friends -- “

“ -- because we were, and he may be a big talker, but he wasn’t going to push me into anything and I didn’t want to go anyway.”

Beverly slid back to sit more firmly on the coffee table she’d been perching on to check the baby. “Dee. Didn’t you just fall for someone you consider a close friend?”

“Yes, which would be why I’m not going to turn around and fall for Will. Right?”

“I’m not saying that you will -- don’t get too mad at me. I’m just saying what Jean-Luc is likely aware of and using to feed that little anxiety into a ball of nerves in the pit of his stomach, while he’s sitting there letting you tear his heart out of his chest with a grapefruit spoon, because he’ll just let you go be happy with someone else if that’s your decision.”

“What a horrible thing to say,” Deanna cried, starting to sit up but giving in quickly when Renee decided to start practicing her karate. Groaning, she felt the sudden need for the toilet. Again.

Beverly got up and moved while she swung her feet down, and hovered, but at least she let her go to the bathroom on her own. She came back to find the doctor had replicated one of her chocolate drinks.

“I changed the consistency. Give it a try.”

Deanna reorganized herself on the couch -- propped up, feet up, dress arranged -- and took the drink to give it a try. “It’s now less like pasty glue, and more like runny glue.”

“Well, it’s good for the baby. So drink up.” Beverly sat at her feet, checking her ankles. “The edema looks better.”

“Go ahead and say it -- I’m one of those problem mothers. I swear, I see you every two hours.”

“Well, part of that is just being a friend -- I’m worried about both of you, as I’m sure you know. And you talk to me more than Jean-Luc does. He’s even less forthcoming when he’s worried.”

“You worry about Jean-Luc?”

Beverly gave her a look, and then quickly turned away, and immediately felt a terrible pang of fear. 

“If you don’t tell me what you are thinking I am going to sit on you until you have to pee as badly as I do every two seconds.”

“Deanna, honestly, I think,” she began, making a close study of her own lap. She thought intensely, head tilting. “I think if he had felt half of what he feels, for you, when he -- when I refused him, it would all be different. I’ve never seen him this way about anyone before. Maybe it’s got to do with the baby, maybe it’s that he’s really ready this time. But I think if you left him, it would kill him.”

Deanna wanted to throw the shake across the room, but put it on the floor instead. Her hand shook. She glared at the ceiling, closed her eyes, tried not to cry. 

“What’s wrong? Is she kicking again?”

“Who are you telling, how he feels,” she shouted. “Who the hell are you talking to? I’m not leaving him!”

Beverly stood looking down at her, mouth open. “I’m sorry,” she said, a few tears falling.

“Forget it. I did ask. Can I have some time to myself? Please?”

“Okay.” Beverly left hesitantly, but said nothing else. 

Deanna exhaled, her breath catching, and tried to breath more slowly. It took a while, but she eventually found her way to calm, and was able to think about it a little more. Beverly’s concern made it even clearer that he’d been struggling. She sensed when Will approached, finally, and told the computer to let him in.

“Hi, Deanna,” he exclaimed. He’d been shown to quarters -- he wore a uniform. With four pips, she saw. 

“We should hold a promotion ceremony for you, since he took yours,” she said. “Are you going to grow the beard back?”

“I plan to. Everyone commented on it. So, I guess it wasn’t just another leg pull, taking his hand that way,” Will said, looking around as he dragged a chair over from the table, stepped over it, and dropped into it. “Your name’s on the door and everything.”

After Beverly’s transgression, this irritated her worse than it should have. Pink alert, she thought, trying to compose herself again. He tilted his head and eyed her.

“Are you crying?”

“I’m almost seven months along and I miscarried one of the twins a couple of weeks ago,” she said, almost sounding calm. “I’m tired most of the day and Beverly makes me drink glue. If I cry randomly it’s just part of the new me.”

Will came out of the chair, towering above her, shocked and swaying like a tree in a breeze as a result. He wanted to do something and ended up with his fingers in his hair, then his hands on his head as if it hurt. “Twins,” he managed, sounding strangled.

“Robert,” she said, and the tears flooded her eyes at the tightness in her chest. “I miss him, so much.”

Will sat heavily. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could -- sorry.” He had started to tear up a little as well, and it was that more than anything that told her he was back. 

“I missed you. Will, you should know, it was Jean-Luc who figured it out. He guessed it was Thomas. From the way he was treating me, after we -- after I refused to go with him, stayed aboard the Enterprise with Jean-Luc.”

Will’s jaw shifted, and he leaned forward with his hand on his knee. “Did Tom do anything to you?”

“No.” She paused, wincing. The urge to say nothing, with him, was almost automatic. “Yes. It was so gradual… he was so much like you at first, and he changed so gradually that it wasn’t suspicious at all, for the rest of us. And then he started to hint that we should talk about getting together, getting married -- then a year ago he was hearing from admirals and the new ship was being built, and he started to pressure me. I kept telling him no.”

“Of course. You feel at home here,” Will said. 

“He contacted Mother and told her to arrange a wedding. He kept talking to me about hypothetical situations, what if this, what if that -- I already said no, so I just let him talk. He left about the time I -- I became pregnant. He was so upset, he waited in my quarters, I had to come here -- what he felt frightened me. I didn’t want a confrontation, I told him -- you -- that I wanted you to move on and be happy. He was gone for nearly six months, when he found out I was pregnant -- he would call me, but I stopped talking to him directly when he -- “

Will’s dark look reminded her of Jean-Luc’s angry reactions to Thomas. Which reminded her to check on him, and as she took a breath and set her own painful memories aside, she could tell he was indeed having difficulties. Probably now that the party was over, Data and other officers were appearing on the bridge, and that meant Will was here.

“Troi to Picard,” she said, without really thinking about it. 

“Picard here,” he replied, automatically, his emotional response slightly delayed. 

“Are you in the middle of anything?” She couldn’t think of what to say, now that she’d contacted him. She didn’t really need his help in some physical way, but perhaps she could get away with it, since Will didn’t know that.

“Not really. Is something wrong?” 

“I need help?”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Help?” Will echoed.

“It’s… never mind,” she said. 

“If you want me to get something for you, or -- “

The door opened. He had to have run -- he didn’t seem flustered, or out of breath, but unless he’d beamed down he must have sprinted. Jean-Luc did look a little perplexed, but not out of sorts. “Hello, Will, sorry I ran out on the party. Deanna overdid herself today. Beverly scolded me for not thinking about that and asking how much walking we’d be doing. I suppose we should have let them bring you out to us.”

Will frowned at her. “Sure, you should have. I guess I didn’t realize she was so….”

Deanna swung her legs down, hesitated, put a hand on her hip, and reached out -- Jean-Luc responded to the cue automatically, letting her use him for stability. “I’ll be back,” she said, leaning on Jean-Luc, heading into the bedroom.

He started being confused when she halted and wrapped her arms around him, as the bedroom door closed. “What do you need?” he asked, reciprocating the hug. 

“I needed you.”

“Me?”

Standing back, she held her hands against her cheeks, embarrassed. “I felt a little overwhelmed. I suppose Thomas was a little traumatizing, how he was, and it’s like -- I guess I’m being hypervigilant. It’s not fair to Will. I needed a break. I wasn’t even really thinking clearly, when I called you. Thank you. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Oh, no,” he said, then stopped to stare at her. “Do you want me to stay?”

Deanna was dismayed to find herself starting to cry, again -- he had asked in such a shy, almost timid manner so unlike him, the uncertainty took her back to Beverly’s words, and it hurt. She clutched some of his jacket in her fingers, and her hand over her mouth, and it stunned him for a moment.

“I’m sorry, I can’t -- I don’t -- “ 

She found herself in his arms, as she’d been so much over the past few weeks, and for a while he was so solid and so focused on her, so concerned, that his anxiety vanished. With a hiccup she raised her head and felt suddenly light-headed, swaying. 

Jean-Luc caught her arm and led her to the bed. “I’ll tell him you’re not up to it. Do you need the doctor?”

“I don’t think so. I’m just worked up -- I can’t stop crying, I’m so sorry, I hate this. Wait,” she exclaimed, refusing to sit down. “I’ll tell him.”

She took his arm and went with him. Will was pacing, clearly worried, and stared at her when they came out. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

“No, I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes aching. She sat down on the end of the couch. “My back hurts and I’m being stupid with hormones.”

Jean-Luc headed to the replicator. Will came to her, sat on his heels, looked up at her face and worried. “I guess you don’t need me to compound that, huh? From what you were saying… I probably stress you out just reminding you of him.”

“It’s nice to have you back, Will,” Jean-Luc said, holding out a fresh hot pad. She leaned forward and after a brief hesitation he knelt to put it in the small of her back. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Is she still wearing boots?”

It brought a smile to the surface, and she put a hand to the side of her belly, where she could feel that hard bulge that was Renee’s head. “She’s settled down, finally.”

“There are a few technical manuals left, if you want me to read you to sleep.”

“Why don’t you just let me know when you feel better, we can talk then,” Will said, starting to feel guilt, and regret, and a little wishful. 

“Okay. Thanks, Will.”

She watched him go -- he nodded to Jean-Luc and strolled out, and as the door shut she immediately felt relief, which told her how tense she had been.

“You really should sleep,” Jean-Luc said quietly. Which was his way of saying she looked horrible, and he was worried.

“I think I can, actually. If… can you stay with me, for a while?”

“I can. We’re on our way to Earth, and we’re to pick up a passenger along the way. The admiral decided that since we are returning there ourselves, and Thomas is being held on a starbase pending transport to Earth, we’re to pick him up -- it’s out of our way, but it’s less of a diversion for us than for one of the other starships. They want him in a secure brig for the trip given he’s already been resourceful enough to break out of prison once.”

Deanna held her head in her hands. On the one hand, he was telling her everything again, which was much more to her liking. On the other.... “Maybe Beverly will just put me under for a while again.”

“Or maybe we’ll just put him in stasis. Come to bed?”

She picked up her pad, which felt too nice to leave there, and went with him, letting him tuck her in. He figured out how to prop the pad against her back, and tucked a pillow under Renee, and instead of getting in with her, he sat on her side of the bed and stroked her hair as she fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re sure you don’t want to just put your feet up and nap?”

“You’re so sweet,” Deanna said, giving him the sparkling, happy smile she’d been giving him for a few days now. “But I’m glad I get to sit on the bridge. It means I can spend more time with you.”

Jean-Luc had to smile, at her earnest happiness. “You’ve been missed, you know. Rumor has it I’m grumpy, if you’re not around.”

“Oh, never,” she said, her tone sarcastic. She held on to his elbow lightly and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. 

“We’re almost to the starbase -- Tom will be coming aboard today. You will be here, and he’ll be beamed into the brig directly.”

Deanna lost too much of the happiness for his liking. The lift opened, and they strolled out onto the bridge, to see happy faces all around -- Geordi grinned at her and made a show of pretending to dust off her chair.

“I haven’t been gone that long,” she chided, taking her place. She immediately shifted left a little. 

“If you’re not comfortable we can get you something to sit on. Or you can take Geordi’s chair,” he said, glancing at the first officer. 

“I’m fine, Captain.”

Data glanced over his shoulder from ops. “I can assign an ensign to bring you brownies, and get you -- “

“Data,” she exclaimed. She gave him a look that said she was on her way to a ‘pink alert’ if they didn’t straighten up and get back to normal.

“As you were,” Jean-Luc said, gesturing at the viewscreen. Ensign Marco turned back to the helm, and Data returned to his upright attentive posture as he monitored his post. Jean-Luc sat down himself and checked a few readouts. 

Geordi sat down, becoming more serious. “You have another message from Admiral Whitaker -- came in before alpha shift.”

“So I see. I’ll be in my ready room, Commander.”

He listened to the message, and could not believe his ears -- the admiral was terse, down to the point, and it left Jean-Luc sitting there at his desk with his head in his hand. 

The annunciator was who he thought it would be. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, just the usual,” he said, glancing up at her with a shake of the head and a smirk. “I bet you can guess.”

Deanna sat down, her hands automatically going to the sides of her belly, and smiled at him happily. “Are we being diverted to battle? Find a missing ambassador? Investigate a mysterious disappearance of a starship?”

“The starbase Thomas was being held on was ruthlessly attacked and he was taken.”

Deanna sighed. “Well, if things were boring, we could go buy a house. But something tells me I shouldn’t pick out the curtains.”

“I’m thinking of giving Will the Enterprise.”

She settled back a little, surprised.

“Deanna?”

“I love that you would do that, Jean-Luc, but -- Thomas is still at large, and I’m not sure he wouldn’t try to find me.”

“Are you sure he would?”

“I think -- “ Deanna’s gaze fell. 

The annunciator, again, and this time it was Will, smiling, glancing fondly at Deanna -- and doing a double take. He wore his uniform, as he had since coming aboard.

“Dee was about to tell me why she thinks Thomas would bother us, if we quietly bought a house in San Francisco,” Jean-Luc told him. “Coffee?”

“I think, Captain,” Deanna said firmly, underlining that she wasn’t speaking as a pregnant woman who had kicked him in the shins last night in her sleep, “that he is less… himself, than I previously believed. If you’ll recall the occasional mistakes he made, in the line of duty, and the recent incident that led to a court-martial -- I’ve been looking into that, and listening to his logs related to the various minor issues of the past few years, and I think that it’s entirely possible that the time he spent in the labor camp was more damaging that one would anticipate, given how well he actually functioned in the line of duty. But I think that my continued rejection may have led to some decompensation.”

Will met Jean-Luc’s eyes, anger simmering just beneath the surface, showing in the set of his mouth. He frowned down at the top of Deanna’s head. “Isn’t Thomas supposed to be on his way back to prison?”

“How many contingencies would you have, if you were playing his game?” Jean-Luc asked.

Will sat in the chair on Deanna’s right, and thought about that for a minute. “So he’s gotten out of custody, somehow.”

“We were supposed to pick him up on the way to Earth.”

“Do we know what he was doing, between the last time we saw him and now?”

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. “Are you on duty, Captain?”

“Who else is better suited to comment on what he might do?”

“Counselor, you were saying?” 

Will leaned back, a little dismayed, and Deanna ignored him and continued as requested. 

“I think he might -- “ Deanna looked down, clearly struggling with it. “He might think the baby is his.”

 _”What?”_ Will exclaimed.

Jean-Luc wanted to shake him -- he leaned on his desk and nodded. “Why do you think this?”

Deanna smiled a little, glancing toward the replicator, and he went to the alcove and asked for his tea, and her mid-morning snack, a slice of berry pie. Will watched this with a little surprise. 

“Not because he had sex with me, certainly,” she said, taking the pie. “It was one of the things he accused me of, the last time I spoke to him, a few weeks ago. He thinks it’s his, despite the lack of the customary precedent. Apparently I’m lying about a variety of things I’m not lying about.”

“As opposed to lying about all the things you lie about?” Jean-Luc asked, sitting down with his Earl Grey. 

It earned him the fond head-shake and amused smile of Counselor Troi. “So as I said, I suspect that he’s decompensating, believing what he wants to believe regardless -- delusional. The court-martial was about something ridiculous -- I don’t think Thomas would have lost his temper that way, before he left the Enterprise.”

Will watched her eat, and she noticed after three bites. She turned her head to look at him.

“Will?”

“Just -- never mind.” He made a concerted effort to not look at her, turning away, glancing around as if trying to find a place for his eyes to land. 

“I suppose it’s possible that he was tortured, by the Cardassians,” Jean-Luc said. Even he heard the brittle undertones in his words. “Or that he sustained some sort of head trauma -- Maquis used whatever vessels they could find, and not all of them were so well-appointed with inertial dampeners or medical facilities.”

“It may be that he’s got friends in the Romulan Empire,” Deanna said. “Now that I know who he really is, I think about all the things he’s said to me since we came aboard the 1701-E and some things that were a little confusing now make a little more sense to me. It wasn’t immediately obvious to me how he knew a Romulan -- he name-dropped someone named Tevek, and I could tell he knew this man fairly well, but I couldn’t make sense of it at the time. Now, of course, it would make sense, if he had some contact with the Romulans in the space of time between joining the Maquis and being sent to Dramia.”

“Good, when we arrive at the starbase we’ll assess the situation with that in mind. Thank you, Counselor.”

She took what was left of the pie with her when she received the implicit dismissal. That left Will, to chew on his lower lip and brood for a moment.

“It’s a difficult adjustment -- how have you been?” Jean-Luc said. “Other than coming out to the holodeck a couple of times, visiting with Deanna here and there, and coming to dinner, you’ve been making yourself scarce.”

“I’m feeling really out of it -- like it’s all so unreal,” he said. “Like that time you had that probe experience, or you were coming back from the Borg. I get it now, how you must have felt -- why you were so distant and not yourself.”

“Give it time. Did you come by, yesterday, to see her?” He remembered Deanna mentioning that he might, but she hadn’t said anything at dinner about seeing him.

“I planned to, but I slept in. That’s something I didn’t get a lot of, in the cell. Not what I would call a pleasurable experience, having the lights on all the time, with the jarring hum of the force field.” He appraised Jean-Luc across the desk for a minute, and smiled. “You’re good with her.”

“I’m….” Jean-Luc frowned.

“I’m serious. Not even going to tease about it. I like that she’s so happy, the minute you’re in the room.”

It caught him off guard. He tried to think of something to say.

“I went with Data, a couple days ago. Chatted while he was playing chess with her, watched her whip him again -- I think she’s actually gotten better at it. You came home and she lit up watching you get her one of those glue drinks she complains about, and you know she isn’t happy to see those things.”

Jean-Luc picked up his tea. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s mutual. So, if I’m smirking in your direction at any point, I’m just thinking about a conversation I had with you shortly after I came aboard, where we agreed that the career officer is better off focusing on work rather than indulgence, and on the future of the Federation and Starfleet, than being distracted by kids and family.”

“Remember the weddings, and the births, we had? A lot happened since that conversation.” Jean-Luc sipped his lukewarm tea and decided he wanted it hot. He came back with a cup of coffee as well as his tea, and handed it across to Will before sitting down.

“I remember when you were handed a baby in sickbay -- I thought you were going to drop it, trying not to drop it.”

Jean-Luc smirked at him. “Not going to be a problem.”

“Beverly said it’s been a rough time for Deanna. That she usually spends most of her time reassuring the parents and letting things work themselves out, but that it’s been tough because of Thomas, and because…. You didn’t get together in a conventional way, Dee said. Something about putting the cart before the horse?”

It was encouraging that Deanna had started to talk to Will again. Jean-Luc had wondered if she might be feeling anxious that Will might disapprove, of them, or the way things had come about.

“Something like that. I think I’ll let her finish telling you herself.” 

Will had a wistful look about him, for a minute. “You’re buying a house in San Francisco?”

“We haven’t really decided yet. I’m waiting for her to have the baby, and see how things settle out.”

“I guess she’s pretty hormonal at the moment,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen her cry at the drop of a hair brush before.”

“Oh, there’s likely someone being anxious in the vicinity. She’s more sensitive than she used to be. She has trouble sorting things out some days.” Jean-Luc turned on the monitor. “Computer, access any logs or reports related to the incident at Starbase 521, within the past twenty-four hours.”

“Yeah, I’m wanting to hear that, too,” Will said, leaning forward.

It was almost like it was before, with Will ready to help him figure out a mission. Jean-Luc chose an entry from just after the time the admiral had given him, and started to play it, leaning back and sipping tea. If he really did get a house in San Francisco, if this really was his last hurrah, at least he would get to enjoy it with good friends. 

\---------------------

 

When he got down to nearly the end of the shift, he realized he was starting to anticipate going home, losing focus, and shook himself out of it as he entered the briefing room. Jean-Luc nodded to Will, who’d returned to the bridge for the briefing, and went to the head of the table. Outside the viewports the space station hung against a backdrop of stars. One could see scoring of energy weapons along the plating, and one of the six pylons was missing.

Geordi arrived, followed by Neal, Marco, and Data. Beverly arrived at a jog. She took the chair between Marco and Data, and looked at Will with a smile before focusing on her commanding officer. Carmichael arrived, carrying a large piece of something that looked a lot like a plasma manifold.

“I missed a memo,” Jean-Luc said. “Is it show and tell today?”

“We replaced it -- if you want to see why, allow me.” Carmichael tipped it over and held it so it wouldn’t roll off the table. He pointed at the bottom. Geordi leaned across the table and grabbed something that came off in his hand.

“This is a -- “ He held it up and turned it over, studying it. “You’re checking everything?”

“Got people pulling double shifts with tricorders. This is sabotage, sir, nothing but. I found two more devices under consoles in engineering. Sneaky -- this is Maquis stuff, no question. Six tricorders are missing from lockers across the ship, along with a dozen hand phasers.”

Geordi pitched it up the table, and Jean-Luc raised a hand and caught it, turning it over in his hand. “Trace evidence?”

“Yes, sir. DNA traces we detected in a few skin cells left on the device point to William T. Riker -- the other one, since the real one wasn’t aboard when it was placed.”

He slammed the jury-rigged guts of a tricorder on the table. “Have you gone over the sensor logs from the starbase, Mr. Carmichael?”

“Aye, sir. The weapons that did the damage to the station were consistent with what you’d find aboard a smaller, older style of Romulan warbird.” Carmichael took the manifold off the table and set it on the floor under a viewport, then came back to sit next to Neal. “Most of the current Romulan fleet are newer, more sophisticated birds with singularity drives. This was something at least a hundred fifty years old. Some searching via Memory Alpha gave us enough to assume that this is likely a small group of what we’d call pirates. Or terrorists.”

“Damn,” Will said quietly. 

“Can you tell us how it came to pass that you ended up in his prison cell, while he was here, planting bombs?” Jean-Luc tried not to sound too angry, but knew Will wouldn’t mistake it for anything but anger at his ship being booby-trapped.

Will sat back, nodding, understanding why this was being asked of him now. “I got a message from him. He said he wanted to talk to Dad, needed his comm code, so I responded -- that must be how he got where I was, dissected the message code to get the location of the terminal I was on at the time. About three days later I was sitting on the deck of my room on Risa when he showed up. He was friendly at first, asked how Deanna was doing, how everything was going, said he’d finished his time and been released -- he was thinking about getting in touch with Deanna again. And I told him that was probably a lost cause, and started to tell him why -- I turned to get another drink and a hypospray hit me in the neck. Next thing I knew, I was being handed over to the authorities, and he was pretending to be me.”

“So, you didn’t see if he had anyone helping him.”

Will stared at the device in front of Jean-Luc, and fumed. “I have vague memories of voices. Some memory of waking up and feeling hung over -- then I was drugged again, probably repeatedly.”

“Something that a telepath could recover?”

Will looked at him. “You only have one aboard, right?”

Jean-Luc smiled, glancing around the table. “Well, several. But I suspect not every Vulcan is so adept at mind melds, and Lwaxana has a little more tact than we give her credit for.”

“Well, I can think of worse ways to spend my time. We can give it a try. What are you hoping to find?”

“You don’t know until you look, do you? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Will grinned, and it was an expression echoed around the table. “Why do you keep asking that question when you know the answer?”

“Mr. LaForge, take an away team to the starbase, check with the station commander and examine the damage first hand. Mr. Data, you will assist Mr. Carmichael in clearing the ship of whatever else our former friend left for us to find. Dr. Crusher, you and Ambassador Troi can help the captain with his memory. Dismissed.”

Jean-Luc headed out the door, and found as he entered the lift that Will was shadowing him closely. “Beverly said we’d meet in the morning. She didn’t think she could tear Lwaxana away from Ten Forward.”

“Non stop party in the lounge, Will. Maybe you should go check it out.”

“Nah.” He leaned against the side of the lift and looked tired. “A quiet dinner for me.”

“If you’re trying to get invited, no need to work so hard. Deanna would be happy to see you.”

“No sense in burning out my welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow -- if I survive the gentle ways of her mother, maybe I’ll go play chess with Deanna in the afternoon.” The lift stopped on deck seven, and Will left it. 

Jean-Luc rode to deck eight and headed for his door. He paused in the corridor, thought about it, then backtracked down the corridor to an equipment locker and found a tricorder. 

Deanna looked up from a padd when he came in. “What’s wrong?”

“Probably nothing.” He walked around, scanning, and found nothing, anywhere in his quarters. When he returned to sit with her on the couch she was waiting with her hands folded in her lap. 

“Thomas had more on his mind than taking you with him,” Jean-Luc said. “We’re finding devices in critical parts of the ship. I think it’s likely that he was going to sabotage the Enterprise.”

Deanna glanced at the padd. “I’ve been going through all his logs. I had the computer render them into text, so I didn’t have to hear his voice. He did not, of course, say anything about his plans. But I think he did have more going on that I noticed. I wonder if part of why he was so forward with me was to distract me, from sensing something else going on. I think he took advantage of our close friendships with Will, knowing that we all trust him implicitly, to get away with whatever he was doing.”

“You’re aware, I think, of what’s going on in the Romulan Empire?” 

They had discussed it on a few occasions. She nodded and reached over to take his hand. “The usual process of becoming friends with a very old enemy -- factions within your culture develop splinter groups to oppose the treaty. Like the Maquis, not everyone agrees completely with what the government does.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow, to head for the Empire. Unless Admiral Whitaker decides to assign another vessel, which is doubtful -- we have the advantage of knowing Thomas better than anyone. You’ll be at the briefing in the morning -- Geordi should have the results of his investigation on the starbase, Will can hopefully remember some of the things he’s forgotten with your mother’s help, and we’ll have a better informed idea of how to approach the Romulans with an appeal for help.”

“All right. Are you hungry?”

He put the tricorder on the coffee table. “Yes. Shall we share something incredibly nutritious and filling?”

“I was about to lobby for a dish of ice cream, based on the fact that I’ve been so good all day, eating nothing but a great variety of vegetables and fruits and glue.”

Jean-Luc slipped his hands up her blouse, to run his palms up to find the baby, and frowned. “This doesn’t feel right -- I thought you were going to sickbay for the rash.”

“It’s not something that can be done away with. It’s a specific kind of rash, related to the hormones, that sometimes happens, with mothers who are pregnant with multiples -- it’ll go away when I have the baby. Beverly gave me a cream to put on a few times a day.”

“It feels like… blisters?”

“If you’re going to do that, you could at least put the cream on -- once it starts itching I’ll end up scratching until the skin breaks and it’ll just keep itching.”

Jean-Luc rolled back the edge of the blouse and looked at the scattering of red, raised speckles down the left side of her belly; there were indeed tiny blisters developing, and there were more reddish areas than before. 

“It’s humbling, how this has all turned out,” he murmured.

“Jean-Luc?”

“The Ressikans must have completely whitewashed what pregnancy is really like -- Eline didn’t have half the issues you’ve suffered.”

Deanna sighed, shoving herself off the couch -- she went to the replicator, asking for a dish of rocky road as she walked. “People have been having babies for centuries. I suspect if one were to develop a full understanding of how it is to be pregnant before one becomes pregnant, we would have fewer people than we have now.”

“Did you understand, before we did this? What it can be like?”

Deanna returned to him and sat close, and fed him the first bite of her ice cream. “There were more than a dozen pregnancies aboard the 1701-D, and there have been a few in the past couple of years on this Enterprise. Everything I have had so far, has happened to one or more of the women -- many of them came to me for counseling to get through it as well.”

He thought about it, as he watched her eat a few bites and savor each one. “So you knew exactly what you were doing when you chose to have twins. You were willing to do this, with me, even though at the time you weren’t in love with me.”

She met his gaze, licked a drip of ice cream from the corner of her mouth, and shook her head a little with the fond, you-silly-thing expression she reserved for times when he stated the obvious. “I may not have been in love with you. But I did not doubt that, once we both worked through the initial phase of this, there would be love -- you loved your children, your future children, already. You were willing to suffer all the awkwardness and oddity of having a woman you weren’t in love with help you have them. I loved my future children enough to do the same, to give them a father who would give up anything for them, and so it was no debate at all for me to decide that you were the best thing I could do for them.”

Jean-Luc smiled, moving to balance on the edge of the couch, and ran a finger up her knee, under the edge of the skirt she was wearing. “You expected we would fall in love?”

“Not expected. I knew we already loved each other, as friends. I knew that we might fall in love. I wouldn’t expect it. But it is nice that it happened, isn’t it?”

“That isn’t how I would have described it, but yes. Where is that cream you mentioned? How is your back, tonight?”

“I think my back would be better if you gave me a massage. And the cream is in the bedroom.”

“A good place for it.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may not remember all the way back in chapter one, when the treaty with the Romulans was mentioned. (Remember chapter one?)
> 
> (Did I mention my version of short story is not unlike a novel?)

Will arrived on the bridge just after the Enterprise dropped out of warp at the designated coordinates, to meet with their assigned escort and assisting vessel, the Romulan warship Chula, commanded by Subcommander Toreth. 

“How did it go?” Jean-Luc asked, as Will sat on his left, in the vacant counselor’s chair. Geordi was trying not to be too amused.

“Actually, it wasn’t as bad as I anticipated,” he said, either because it had been unendurably typical of any encounter with Lwaxana, or because Deanna had been there to supervise and redirect her mother.

“When the counselor gets here, I may have you repeat that.” Jean-Luc shared a smirk with Geordi. 

“I came out of the ordeal with a couple of names, and some dialogue that suggests Thomas has some agreement with a small faction that’s hard to pronounce.” 

The lift opened, and Deanna emerged. “Are they decloaked yet?”

Jean-Luc cocked his head and leaned on the arm of his chair, as she came to a halt in front of Will, who wasn’t yielding her seat. Deanna had dressed in an outfit from years ago, teal dress, teal tights, but with reasonable-looking shoes instead of the heels she used to wear. This must be the end result of all the swearing she had done about the maternity uniform as he’d left that morning.

“You’re saying they are already here?” Will asked. 

“Warbird decloaking,” Neal announced. It sounded like he was smiling as he said it.

“We should greet Subcommander Toreth, then.” Jean-Luc stood, and stopped to stare at Deanna, who suddenly appeared to be uncomfortable. “Counselor?”

“I think -- “

“We are being hailed, sir,” Neal put in helpfully.

“On the main viewer, Commander.”

The view of a Romulan bridge replaced the view of a warbird in space. A typical Romulan subcommander stood at attention in the center of the screen. “Captain Picard,” she said, sounding almost pleasant about it. “An honor to meet you.”

“An honor to meet you as well, Subcommander, although it would be preferable to have met under more pleasant circumstances.” Jean-Luc took a few steps as he spoke, putting his focus on the matter at hand instead of indulging curiosity as to how Deanna was reacting. “We have some new information, in addition to what we provided in the request -- would you like to join me and discuss the particulars?”

“I think that would be beneficial to the mission, yes. I will bring my second in command, and transport to the Enterprise momentarily.” The screen went back to the view of the warbird. 

“Mr. Neal and I will meet them in the transporter room,” Jean-Luc said, glancing at Geordi. “We’ll meet in the observation lounge. Counselor, I know you have a -- is something wrong?” He turned to her as he spoke, and found her looking resigned, perhaps a little fearful. 

“This is the subcommander I faced when I was captured and forced to pretend to be an agent of the Tal-Shiar,” Deanna said. “I’m certain she recognized me. She’s quite angry.”

“I suspect she will be as most Romulans, or Vulcans, are -- controlled and intelligent enough to recognize that we’re beyond all that. I would still prefer having you in the meeting.”

“Yes, sir.” She swept around him in a rustle of skirt, heading for the observation lounge.

“Are you joining us, Will?”

“I might be more useful than I feel if I do, I guess.” He stood and went after Deanna. 

“You have the bridge, Geordi,” Jean-Luc said, trying not to read too much into that.

Neal walked silently all the way to the transporter room. “Sir, do you really think we can trust the Romulans?”

“Given why we’re here, I expect we can trust the Romulans at least as much as we can trust our own people, in most cases.”

Toreth was more pleasant than she had been over subspace. She even shook his hand, and Neal’s when he was introduced. Her second in command, Darvek, had a hint of a smile as well. They walked together from the transporter room to the turbolift. 

“I have heard about your accomplishments, Captain,” Toreth said. “And those of your crew. It impresses me that even the lesser members of your staff have distinguished themselves.”

“You make it sound as though my greatest accomplishment must be in choosing officers. You may be correct.”

Toreth made a slight noise that could have been a quickly-stifled laugh -- then she smiled, with more genuine feeling. “It goes without saying that we are all called upon to set aside old quarrels, with the treaty. Which I am in full agreement, on that point. But it was startling to see Counselor Troi is still on your bridge. You should have no need for intelligence agents, I would think.”

“I think you must be under the impression that she was on some official assignment, willingly, when you last encountered her. She’s no agent. She was in fact kidnapped and brought aboard your vessel unconscious and pressed into service by your officer, N’Vec.”

The lift opened, while Toreth was still contemplating that statement open-mouthed. She recovered enough to follow Jean-Luc into the briefing room, where he offered their guests a beverage and a chair. Deanna had already moved around to sit on the left, back to the wall, a glass of tea in front of her. Will sat next to her.

“This is Commander Troi and Captain Riker,” Jean-Luc said, after bringing himself tea and placing their guests’ requested beverages in front of them. “The captain is here because the man we are looking for stole his identity. The commander has collected a considerable amount of information on our fugitive -- she has been examining his logs and other information on his movement over the past few years.”

“Captain Riker was in a transporter accident more than twenty years ago,” Deanna said. “In essence, due to a malfunction, he was cloned by the transporter of the ship he was assigned to at the time, and the end result was a genetically-identical individual who took the name Thomas Riker, and continued in a Starfleet career, as a lieutenant. He left Starfleet and became Maquis. Due to his actions with the Maquis, he spent time in a Cardassian prison, then in a Federation prison, for other crimes he committed. Now we have reason to believe that he is operating with a faction at work within the Romulan Empire, to what end, we are unsure.”

“There are a lot of people who wish to return to being enemies of the Federation,” Darvek said. “Some of them are risking their lives to work toward it.”

“Thomas kidnapped me,” Will said. “He kept me drugged for quite a while, but I remember, in lucid moments, hearing him talking to someone -- something about _idu deel_?”

Deanna almost laughed, swiftly turning her head away from Will. Toreth actually did laugh, briefly, and covered her mouth.

“Was it something I said?” Will asked.

“Was it _ih’dhuil dhael_?” Deanna said.

“That’s it -- what does it mean?”

“What you said was not polite. What was actually said could be rendered literally as ‘angry birds.’”

“The Ih’dhuil Dhael are a small but powerful group -- they sometimes recruit mercenaries,” Toreth said. “Could your fugitive be a mercenary?”

“It would be a logical next step for a terrorist, in a way,” Jean-Luc said. “He can’t get back into Starfleet. He can’t go home, he’d be back in a cell. And now he has more charges to face.”

“Are there any other leads? This seems like we are chasing ambiguity. Do you know how he may have come to be in Romulan space?” Toreth continued to sound minimally pleasant, but there was a slight edge of disbelief now.

“It’s likely they are in old decommissioned warbirds, judging from the sensor data you forwarded,” Darvek commented. “But that in itself is not conclusive, either.”

“Have you ever heard of anyone associated with the Ih’dhuil Dhael named Tevek?” Deanna asked. “Or Tarvock, Kretilan, or Menos?”

Jean-Luc watched Toreth’s face while Deanna spoke. The subcommander would be a good poker player, but he thought she was less amused than before. “Tevek is a known fugitive of the Empire,” she said. “He was once a subcommander. Rumor has it he is one of the leaders of the Ih’dhuil Dhael.”

“We can research the others,” Darvek said. 

“Do you have any suggestions to begin searching for angry birds in decommissioned ships?” Jean-Luc asked. 

“We do, indeed. Since the borders between the Empire and the Federation are still patrolled, by vessels working to remove old defensive infrastructure, we contacted those vessels and received information on movements of ships across the border. If you have a map of the region?”

Jean-Luc asked the computer, and the holographic projection of the sector they were in sprang into the air. The Enterprise and the Chula sat in the center, and stars all around. 

“Oh, very nice,” Toreth murmured, almost to herself. “Which is Menara Minor?” The computer circled the star in question, without needing specific instruction. It was a day’s travel and well inside Romulan territory. “That is the suspected system where Ih’dhuil Dhael is said to have a base.”

“You said your military is removing defensive installations on Federation borders,” Deanna said, watching the slowly-revolving hologram. “As is the Federation. Are there any independent contractors involved in that project, as there are on the Federation side? I suspect that they are no longer in decommissioned warbirds.”

Jean-Luc stared at his counselor, and noticed Will was raising his eyebrows at her, too. 

“You not only pretend to be one of us convincingly, you think like a Romulan,” Toreth said, with a lazy predatory smile.

“That was not my idea, nor was it my preference,” Deanna said, regarding the subcommander with wide, honest eyes. “I would have preferred to serve with you, rather than against you.”

Toreth straightened, actually shaking her head slightly in surprise. “Do not mock me.”

“I do not. I don’t waste my time, serving with officers who lack ethics, or principles, nor would I serve blindly -- it was obvious to me that you were not the sort of commanding officer to demand that kind of sacrifice.” Deanna glanced at Jean-Luc, and turned back to the Romulans. “When I heard the Federation had a treaty with Romulus, I had hoped you had survived the Dominion, so I could apologize to you properly -- I had no quarrel with you, or anyone else in the Empire. All I wanted to do was get home, without causing any more death than had already been perpetrated on my behalf. I was, and still am, sorry that I caused you difficulties and the lives of officers.”

Toreth sat stone-faced, then gave a brief nod. It was, Jean-Luc supposed, what one could expect. She looked up at the star map. “Computer, indicate the border of the Empire, and the locations of vessels along it, on both sides. Code the contracting vessels in red.”

The rest of the meeting dealt with mapping a route that took them to the vicinity of those ships involved in the deconstruction of wartime equipment. Jean-Luc left Will and Deanna to escort their guests back to the transporter room, answering a few questions from Darvek on the way, about the ship.

“Perhaps you would like a tour,” Jean-Luc said, as they came to halt inside the lift. “Transporter room two, computer.”

A pause, both officers regarding him as if he had suggested flying into a black hole. “I would like that, Captain,” Toreth said. 

“Then, perhaps, since we are not on an intense mission, requiring much focused attention, you might consider bringing your senior staff for a meal this evening? We have a different diurnal schedule, but I believe you would be delaying your midday meal, and we would be having an early evening meal, if we were to meet in seven hours.”

Toreth gave Darvek a look, and he nodded. “I accept your invitation, but it will be only Darvek and myself, and our ship’s medical officer, in attendance. I appreciate your generosity and would like to return it in kind, perhaps in a day or two. It will take several days at warp five to traverse the border, and another day to reach Menara Minor.”

Jean-Luc smiled, watched their guests stand on the transporter pad, and gave the nod. Once they were gone, he gave the transporter chief a smile of appreciation and departed for the bridge.

Deanna and Will were standing with Geordi in the middle of the bridge, talking quietly, when he returned. “We’ll coordinate heading and speed with the Chula, following their lead. Counselor, when did you come up with the idea you had in the meeting?”

“I reviewed several years of log entries -- if I came up with nothing at all, that would be surprising. He mentioned a number of holodeck programs he developed. Do you remember one he created a couple of years ago, that he took some of us into?”

“The one where we all had our own little ships,” Geordi exclaimed, remembering. “And we had holographic little crews, to go with them, and we all played cat and mouse in a nebula?”

“And he almost won the end game, by abandoning his and coming back out into the open, in a Ferengi cargo vessel. He made Warren angry, remember?”

Mr. Neal harrumphed and leaned on his console, looking down at them. “He went Maquis -- why the hell wasn’t that more of a red flag than it was?”

“Hindsight, Mr. Neal,” Jean-Luc exclaimed. “It was just another holodeck simulation with Commander Riker, who always liked to pull the unexpected out of his back pocket if he had that spare ace.” He turned to Geordi and Deanna. “I’m afraid I didn’t participate in that one. What else happened?”

Deanna sighed. “He went by, in his Ferengi ship, tossing out motion-activated mines in its wake. He left the original vessel adrift, booby-trapped in a manner similar to what was left on the Enterprise. And then he sent a message in the clear to his own ship, as if he were the Ferengi, passing intelligence to himself about the positions of the rest of us, and then we were scrambling to give chase -- Geordi’s ship hit mines. Mine was damaged, but I was under impulse and had repairs under way. Warren’s was closest to the original, abandoned vessel and was destroyed when the first phaser blast triggered the subroutine that had been left in the computer, waiting for the first energy weapon strike.”

Jean-Luc turned to Data, sitting at ops and listening. “I checked the main computer as well as the auxiliary core, for alterations in the programming. We did clear the ship of jury-rigged devices, sir.”

“So who won the simulation?” Will asked. “Did his tactic work?”

Geordi chuckled and shook his head, looking at the floor. “I called Deanna up and we chatted -- her weapons were out, and my sensors and shields were done for. So she gave me coordinates based on where she sensed he was, and I shot blind, and he had to buy us both a drink.”

"I knew he was on the Ferengi vessel all along," Deanna said. "But I stopped being so fair about things, when he started being so devious."

Jean-Luc laughed at it. Heads turned, around the bridge, as it wasn’t often that he indulged in unrestrained laughter on shift. “He’s going to expect us,” he exclaimed. “He’s going to know what we’re doing. There’s going to be a sabotage somewhere. But we have an advantage he’s forgotten about.”

“I doubt he’s forgotten about Deanna,” Will said.

“Oh, no. We have a treaty, and we have impressed a subcommander, who has a cloaking device. Who is coming to dinner in seven hours, by the way, which should give you,” he gestured at Deanna, “an opportunity to further befriend our allies, to get us a loan of a cloaking device and some cooperation, so we can get the drop on him.”

Deanna smirked, and Geordi laughed louder. Mr. Neal had an appreciative grin. Will was scratching his head, but seemed to get it, albeit in a tired way.

“I suppose if I’m to convince Romulans to play along, I should go have a nap,” Deanna said.

“Before you go,” Will said, “what were you laughing at, when I mispronounced whatever it was I was trying to say?”

“I’m sorry about that, Will. It caught me off guard. It was a much nastier way to say ‘cess pit.’ Essentially, where the unusable parts of butchered animals and feces are dumped.”

“It’s beyond me where you pick up these things,” Geordi exclaimed. 

“I had to do something to pass the time, sitting in my room waiting to be shot while impersonating a Tal-Shiar agent. There was a computer, I used it.” Deanna headed for the lift, yawning. 

“We’re receiving a transmission from the Chula -- heading and speed,” Mr. Neal exclaimed.

“Pass it along to the helm. Make it so, Mr. Marco.”

Will returned to the counselor’s chair, as Jean-Luc sat down. “I’m actually starting to feel optimistic. It’s strange, feeling that way, after all this time.”

“That’s a good sign. Perhaps you’ll be yourself again sooner than you think.”

Will smirked at him. “Thanks for letting me come along on this. You could have dumped me in a shuttle, or on a transport.”

Jean-Luc scowled at him. “We don’t treat family that way. Don’t be so insulting, Will.”

The smirk softened, and regret showed in Will’s blue eyes. “I should have taken you up on the offer, to go sailing with you, instead of heading off to Risa on my own.”

“I should kick your ass for pretending you can rewrite the past. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Thanks, Counselor.”

“Oh, trust me, when she said it to me, she was much nicer about it,” Jean-Luc muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I named a group of dissidents after a phone game.
> 
> Ba-KAW.
> 
> (It goes with the name of the story. ;) )


	9. Chapter 9

Once the ship was under way, Jean-Luc wandered along home, to check on Deanna. She was on the bed, where he would expect, and appeared to be asleep, but as he turned to go she mumbled something and he went to sit on the edge of the bed and reached over to touch her hair. She was of course on her side, facing him where he sat.

“Feeling better?”

“I do. What are you worrying about?”

He sighed, glancing up at the warbird visible above them through the viewport. “I think I haven’t talked to you about your career, enough.”

“Today, or ever?”

“Deanna…. You aren’t just a counselor. You haven’t been, for a long time.”

She peered at him through her lashes. “I would have brought it up if I had an issue with anything. You know that.” She shoved herself up, rolling to sit up against the pillows. He helped her with them, propping her up. 

“I think you haven’t been thinking about it much yourself. With everything that’s happened, and the pregnancy, I wonder if we shouldn’t talk about this more.”

“All right. It’s not going to change my mind, but we can talk.”

He noticed she was absently scratching the side of her belly, and reached for the bottle on her night stand. It was next to the picture he’d found in her quarters, of him on the bridge. She opened the front of her dress, which he realized was actually a wrap-around, and looked at the rash.

“Maybe you should see Beverly,” he said, not liking the look of it. It was an angrier red than before. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t sit through meetings scratching it. I’ll see Beverly later this afternoon.”

“What did you think of them? I didn’t ask for your impression of Toreth. I think you impressed her.”

“Perhaps. I surprised her, that’s what I know so far.” She watched him apply the cream over the rash down the left side of her abdomen, and held back that side of the dress so he could see that it extended farther back now.

“Where did you get this picture?”

She smiled, picked up the picture, but seemed embarrassed. “I cheated. I had the computer create it for me.”

“You see me every day.”

“Not while we weren’t talking about things we needed to talk about.” She put the picture back and tucked her dress around her again, as he set aside the cream. 

“We should get a picture, of us. I should have been taking pictures all this time.” 

“We can. Are you having second thoughts about some of the things we’ve been discussing? I know it can’t be anxiety about my running away with Will any longer, he’s actually happy for us. And I think he’s suffering some post-traumatic stress, as well. He was angry and sad, listening to us talk about that holodeck simulation we did with Thomas, thinking it was him. He had three years of his life taken away from him.”

“He said a few things that concerned me as well. But that’s not what I’m concerned about at the moment. I simply don’t want to limit -- now, wait. I know you told me that you would be happy, doing any of the things we discussed, but if you will regret -- “

Deanna gave him a perplexed and frustrated look. “I regret very little, in life. I can’t even say I regret falling in love with Will, though there were times I wondered about my own sanity. You regret, and you don’t want me to feel that way. How am I going to regret having children?”

Jean-Luc shrugged. “All right.”

She put her hand to his head, in a way only his mother had ever done, caressing his head and pulling them together for a hug. “It’s all right, Jean-Luc. I think if you didn’t ruminate endlessly, you would lose part of your charm.”

She got what she wanted -- he laughed at it, at himself, and kissed her forehead. She made an appealing armful of warmth, and he felt the baby shifting against his ribs. “She’s kicking you again.”

“She’s been responding to your voice. They can hear us, at a certain point.”

He pushed his hand in the front of her dress and left his hand against her warm, firm belly. Her hair smelled like her shampoo, something floral. This had been, and continued to be, a profound experience, in that he had been rediscovering how much he enjoyed having someone there in the evenings. Watching her go through all the various miseries of pregnancy had worried him, but he had been happy to discover that she was as content to sit together reading as she was to idly discuss whatever came to mind.

“I suppose that I should be reading to her?”

“Or playing your flute?”

“Have you eaten?” 

“A couple of hours ago. I could eat something now. You could, too.”

He pulled back and stood, and watched her get up. It was nice to see her moving without pain, or so tired she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She seemed to be more herself all the time, although she sometimes still looked at him with questioning eyes.

While he brought plates to the table for them, she re-fastened her dress and ran her fingers through her hair, which she’d let down from the usual combs she wore while on duty. “I looked at the houses you flagged, the ones along the peninsula?”

Jean-Luc put a glass of tea in front of her, and slid into the chair to pick up his fork. He noticed her head come up, the instant the annunciator went off.

“Not the real estate agent, I’d guess,” he said, and she flashed him a smile. “Come in.”

“Hi,” Beverly said, after she came through the door. “Sorry, I didn’t know I was crashing the party. I just wanted to see how you were feeling.”

“I’m doing all right,” Jean-Luc said, grinning.

“Come sit down, he’ll get you some tea,” Deanna said. “When he’s done being silly.”

Beverly shook her head, and sat next to Deanna, folding a leg under herself on the chair. “I’m not going to stay long. I think you’re doing well enough to do what you feel like doing -- judging from how you’ve been the past few days, you’re back on track. Just stick with moderate exercise and don’t overdo, and tell the boss you don’t get to spar with anyone or do anything strenuous.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem. I don’t tend to do any sparring, in the line of duty. After duty is another matter.”

Jean-Luc almost dropped his glass, and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, he really didn’t understand what he was getting into, did he?” Beverly chuckled and patted her on the shoulder as she stood again. “Did you manage to talk Will into talking to Bailey?”

“Not yet. I’ll work on it.”

“Great. See you at the recital tonight, Data’s going to play flamenco.”

Jean-Luc watched her leave, more than a little incredulous. “Flamenco?”

“I suspect he may be trying to appeal to Beverly, to get her to dance.” Deanna took a bite of her salad, showing little interest but trying.

“Your stomach isn’t feeling so good, is it?”

“I’m a bit hungry, but not much. I’m really craving something sweet.” She put down the fork. “Is something wrong?”

“Just… questioning.”

“Your sanity?”

He sighed and thought about how Beverly had been reacting to him, lately. “I can’t decide if I’m going to be able to adjust to being teased that way.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her penitence surprising him. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He stared at her in dismay, his own lunch forgotten. 

“I didn’t intend innuendo.”

“Deanna… you don’t have to apologize. I didn’t mean you, Beverly’s been making comments without your help. It’s the way she is, you don’t have to feel as though you’re part of the problem.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not going to die of discomfort. You’ve always teased me. That little bit of embarrassment never hurt me before.”

Her eyes were questioning, but at least she didn’t appear fearful. “I feel off balance. I think it’s because it’s starting to sink in, that it’s different, being with you this way. People have a different attitude toward me. Beverly hasn’t changed, but Will has, a little.”

Jean-Luc leaned forward, concerned and uncertain of what to say. 

“It hasn’t been a problem with the bridge crew. But I had two clients from operations yesterday, and I had to tell them I wasn’t going to talk about you.”

“Is this becoming an impediment to your work?”

“I think it will be temporary,” she said quietly. “But it has me on edge. And then Beverly said that, and it struck me that while it would be perfectly in character for her to keep doing it, and you may expect her to and be willing to endure that, but comments in social settings can become gossip.”

He nodded, thinking hard, and reached to take her hand. “Deanna, you don’t have to worry about it. I don’t care about any of that.”

She nodded, and picked up her fork to prod at the greens. 

“Which of the houses were you interested in?” He rose and took both plates back to the replicator, and returned with two dishes of ice cream. She smiled, her eyes shining with happy tears, and picked up the spoon.

\-------------------------

The Enterprise paralleled the Chula along the border, checking vessels along the way, for two days. Both ships ran cloaked. Deanna spent more time on duty, but when she was in session it was Will on the bridge with them. 

They were sitting in the ready room having a look at the news feeds when Deanna came in. “He’s close,” she exclaimed, leaning in the door.

Jean-Luc led the way back out and stood in front of his chair, looking up at Neal. “Sir, there are four vessels -- two are docked at the space station, the crew working on dismantling it. Two are in orbit around it. The Chula is decloaking to address them.”

“Thomas is on one of the ships -- we should be able to isolate him on sensors, the crew aren’t human.” Deanna sounded quite calm. She sat down, and Jean-Luc noticed her hands, though resting in her lap, were fidgeting as she did when nervous. 

“Mr. Neal,” Jean-Luc snapped, stalking over to stand behind the helm. 

“Scanners are detecting one human life sign on the smaller of the orbiting vessels.”

“Can we get a transporter lock?”

“It’ll be a split-second between decloaking and initiating transport. If they raise their shields it’ll block us. I’m setting up the computer to complete the transport automatically, when the cloak goes down.”

“Let the Chula know our plan -- once they’ve acknowledged, make it so.”

“I hope this works,” Will said quietly, standing to one side with crossed arms, to the right of Geordi sitting in his chair. 

“It would save us a lot of trouble if it’s this easy,” Geordi mumbled. 

“Here we go,” Neal exclaimed. 

When the cloak dropped, both vessels on the viewscreen began to turn, going to warp one after the other. Jean-Luc turned to look at Neal. 

“Got him,” Neal exclaimed happily. “Subcommander Toreth is hailing.”

The head and shoulders of the Romulan subcommander appeared on the viewer. “Were we successful?”

“Yes, thanks to your assistance it was quick and effortless -- thank you, Subcommander. Your cooperation has been invaluable. We can have the cloaking device back to you within the hour, if -- “

“Captain, no need. You can keep it. We are allies, after all. Our respective governments established an agreement on the sharing of technology, there’s no need for further suspicion and guardedness.” Toreth’s minimal smile was genuine. “Perhaps you have also helped us with our problem with the Ih’dhuil Dhael as well. Now that we know they are taking advantage of the Kedraan contractors to transport their members, we can further restrict their movements within our space and decrease their numbers.”

“I hope that we will be able to work together in the future,” Jean-Luc exclaimed. 

“As do I. Jolan Tru, Captain.”

“Jolan Tru, Subcommander.”

The viewer returned to the forward view of stars and the warbird angling away, changing course for home. 

Jean-Luc asked Marco to set a course for Earth, and returned to his chair, to find that Deanna was looking pained and trying to hide it. “Deanna?”

“I’m going to sickbay for an inhibitor. I’d rather not be subjected to his rage,” she said quietly.

“Probably a good idea. I suspect he’ll get angrier, as he sits ignored in the brig.” He watched her head for the lift. 

“You’re not going down to see him?” Geordi asked.

“He’ll be questioned once he’s turned over to Starfleet Security on Earth -- he has a lot to answer for. I don’t see a reason I should spend any more time with him, myself, do you?”

Geordi shrugged a little. “Yeah, not too excited about the fact that he pretended to be my friend for that long. Or that he booby-trapped the ship. I was thinking about getting in some holodeck time later, want to join me, Will?”

Will’s smile was infectious. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe we should check out the sailing on Galara IV?”

“Sounds good to me. Give me a page when you’re ready to set sail. I’ll be around.” Will turned to head up the bridge. 

“Captain, are you joining us?” Geordi smiled at Jean-Luc as if he knew what he would say.

“I may -- I’ve not been sailing in a while. I’ll get back to you.”

When Deanna didn’t return after half an hour, Jean-Luc concluded a conversation with Geordi about their next assignment, exploration of a sector on the outskirts of the Federation, and left the bridge. In the lift, he asked where she was. He diverted from sickbay to quarters when the computer answered.

She wasn’t in the main living area, so he went in the bedroom and found her once again in bed, a pillow jammed in to support the baby, her head cradled in her bent arm. “Jean-Luc,” she murmured as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“When we get back to Earth in a few weeks, we’ll take some time off, I think. How are you feeling?” he said, touching her hair lightly.

“Not good, at the moment. I had to take something for a headache. My body is aching again -- I don’t want to take anything other than the mild analgesic I’ve been using, and it takes the edge off, but I’m not feeling myself at all.”

“What can I do to help?”

He took her arm when she started to sit up, letting her use him to stabilize herself. She leaned against him and sighed as his arms went around her. “This is nice.”

“You took the inhibitor?”

“Just enough to block most emotions. I can still sense someone in physical contact.”

“Does -- “

“Bridge to Picard.”

“Oh, dear,” Deanna whispered.

“What is it, Number One?”

“We’re locking down decks ten through twelve, sir. Our guest managed to break out of the brig!”

Jean-Luc jumped up, immediately alarmed at his automatic behavior, but Deanna had done the same and avoided being jostled by his actions. “How the hell did he do that? Where is he?”

“Security is closing in on him, and Data’s locked him out of the computer systems but he was able to get a phaser and he’s been stunning crew along the way. He’s heading -- hold on.”

Jean-Luc went around the bed and pulled the phaser from under the bed frame, adjusting the settings as he left the bedroom. Deanna followed him, catching his arm. “No, please,” she exclaimed. 

“There’s literally nowhere for him to go. He has to be -- “

“You don’t have to go find him yourself!”

“I’m not going anywhere. Computer, secure the door and erect force fields in the corridor isolating this section.”

Deanna sat on the couch and looked up at him with woe in her eyes and tears on her face. Jean-Luc stood in the middle of the room waiting. 

“LaForge to Picard -- he’s trying to get around the lockout in transporter room four, I have security converging on his location.”

“How the hell did he get out in the first place?”

“Not sure, but the officer stationed in the brig told us Will went to see him.”

Jean-Luc whirled to stare at Deanna, who was as alarmed by that as he was. 

“He knows this ship as well as any of us,” Deanna said. “He probably spent a lot of time learning how to get around lockouts -- if he intended to use his booby traps to impair or take over the ship, capture it, use it to some end, why wouldn’t he also have put backup measures in place in our computer, used Will’s security clearance to -- “

“Data said he cleared the computer of illicit code. He did another complete check of the entire -- “

“Do you know why I keep beating Data at chess?”

Jean-Luc shook his head.

“I’m trying to help him develop an understand of the less rational, more instinctual responses of the mind. He’s great at performing analyses of the many options in the game, but he doesn’t know what to do with non-linear responses to his strategy. He doesn’t think like we do.”

“So what do you think Data missed?”

“The only reason Thomas did this was because he has something else, something in our system he knew no one would find. Because it’s hidden in a place no one will look for it. A way around the measures he knows we would take, to counter him.” Deanna crossed her arms, resting them on her belly, thinking for a moment. “He has to have a separate computer system, something that’s a copy of ours, running in an isolated part of our larger system. Separate from the ship’s systems, but inside them. Otherwise he wouldn’t be getting around lockouts.”

“But where? How would -- “ Jean-Luc started to work the problem from the beginning, how he might sabotage his own vessel out from under its crew. “Computer, lock down all holodecks, authorization Picard delta two two alpha six four.”

“Working. Unable to lock out holodeck ten, insufficient clearance.”

“Picard to LaForge! Cut the power to holodeck ten, he has a virtual computer system running in a background program in that system!”

“On it, Captain.” After a pause, Geordi re-opened the channel. “Sir, the computer’s not letting us do that. I have a team heading into the Jeffries tube to physically cut the power off.”

A transporter effect starting in the room distracted Jean-Luc from the rest of what Geordi was saying. Spinning, Jean-Luc brought up the phaser and fired, but Thomas dropped, rolled, and grabbed for his arm.

“Jean-Luc, wait, it’s me. It’s Will.”

“What are you doing?” Deanna exclaimed, sounding distressed.

“I’m here to help -- Tom is on his way here,” Riker exclaimed, backing a step, putting his arms up, hands open. 

It was enough to make him hesitate -- but just for a second, as it registered that the man in front of him was out of uniform, and the man who’d left the bridge had been in his, and as Jean-Luc fired Thomas dodged toward the couch.

But Deanna was in motion as he did so, and not away from him. She lunged, adopting a strange hunched posture and folding her arms, moving past between Thomas and the couch then straightening and bringing her elbow around -- she struck him at the base of the neck, there was an audible crunch, and he went down on his face.

Jean-Luc fired again, just to be sure, and then they were standing there panting and looking down at the prone body of Thomas Riker. 

Jean-Luc released the lockout and dropped the force fields, and contacted the bridge. 

“Security teams are on the way,” Geordi exclaimed, “are you all right? Is Deanna all right?”

“We’re fine,” Jean-Luc said, grinning, raising his hand to bring Deanna’s head to his shoulder. “He’s disabled. This time, let’s just put him in cold storage, where he can’t do any more damage.”


	10. Chapter 10

“We should have more senior staff meetings like this,” Beverly said, as the holodeck doors closed behind her. She went to one of the two remaining empty chairs around the round table and sat between Data and Geordi. The simulation of the day was an open-sided cabana on a beach. 

“Want me to get you something else?” Geordi asked Deanna, who was sitting to his right and putting her glass down while frowning.

“It’s just indigestion, I’m fine,” she replied. She turned to Jean-Luc, on her right and smiled. “Will’s almost here.”

“So what was the damage?” Jean-Luc asked, glancing across at Beverly. 

“Thomas sustained two fractured vertebrae and a phaser stun,” she replied, reaching for piles of chips. “I healed the damage and put him in stasis, as ordered. He was awake, briefly, but the medically-induced paralysis kept him compliant enough.”

Will came in -- the doors sighed shut again, and he went around the table to take the last chair, between Neal and Carmichael. He was in civvies, a dark blue jacket and slacks.

“I considered breaking his neck, so I suppose that’s satisfactory enough,” Jean-Luc said.

At Will’s surprised glance, Data filled in, “Deanna broke Thomas’ back.”

“ _What_?”

“Have you examined the code from the holodeck, Data?” Jean-Luc started to shuffle the cards.

“It was an impressive program,” Data said, pulling two stacks of chips from the rows in the middle of the table. “He had subroutines that would allow him to transport to any part of the ship, site to site. He had the ability to lock out anyone but the captain. Which must have been why he went to the captain’s quarters, to disable the only person who would be able to stop him. He would have been able to use the ventilation systems to incapacitate the crew and then go to the bridge, to complete the process of transferring full command access to himself.”

“He must have logged a lot of overtime hours while he was aboard, studying the ship’s systems,” Geordi said. “That was an intricate piece of work.”

“The Enterprise would be a great asset to the angry birds,” Deanna commented, picking up the first card she was dealt. “With the flagship of the fleet, they could have flown into the heart of the Empire, attacked Romulus, and started a war, with Captain Riker on the bridge.”

“Let’s back up for a minute,” Will exclaimed. He picked up the card Jean-Luc tossed over to him. “You broke someone’s back.”

“He was going to use me as a hostage to convince the captain to hand over the ship. I didn’t feel like letting him do it.” Deanna tossed her hair back and picked up the next card.

“You’re telepathic now?” Beverly took a swig of her drink, set it down, grabbed up the next card.

“I don’t have to be to guess he might want to save some time he would have otherwise spent fighting with the computer.”

“Just stay clear of the elbows,” Jean-Luc said, tossing cards to Carmichael and Neal by turns. “Or the feet.”

Deanna kicked him lightly under the table. “Will, what were you thinking? Going to the brig was completely unnecessary.”

Jean-Luc watched Will chew on his cheek and look guilty. “I didn’t even get to talk to him. When I got there, he was already out of the cell. I was trying to help the lieutenant, who was trying to wrestle him down. Thomas somehow had the automated defenses in there disabled.”

“So how did we solve the problem?” Neal asked. “All I heard on the bridge was the order to shut down the holodeck. How did we figure out that’s where his virtual computer was stored?”

“The captain gave the order,” Geordi said. Everyone turned to look at Jean-Luc. He turned to look at Deanna.

She studied her cards, then looked around, sighed, rolled her eyes, and dropped her cards face down. “Are we playing cards, or not?”

“You were about to tell them how you figured out what Thomas was up to, right before he beamed in and you rescued me.”

Deanna narrowed her eyes at him and pushed her chair back, got up, and waddled off. “There’d better be a bathroom somewhere close.”

“You’ll never make captain if you never take credit for things,” he called after her as she left the holodeck.

“As if she would want to be captain,” Beverly exclaimed. 

“I think she’d be good at it.” Geordi sipped his drink, nearly poking himself in the ocular implant with the tiny umbrella.

“I believe, based on the six hundred twenty-two games of chess that I have lost to her over the past seven years, that she has a knack for strategy.” Data didn’t look up from his cards.

“How many games have you won?” Will asked.

“Twenty two.”

The holodeck door sighed open again, and Deanna returned to her chair. “Are we playing cards now?”

They made it through a hand. Will collected his winnings with a grin and watched more cards go out, around the table, one by one. Jean-Luc dropped the last card in front of Deanna and put the deck aside, to pick up his own hand and examine it.

“What’s your mother up to, Deanna?” Will asked over the tops of his cards.

“You’ve certainly been a hermit if you don’t know. She renovated the lounge and plays hostess. She has Homn tending bar. This week she’s running a Risan theme, although I did tell her that horghans are inappropriate.”

Will started to laugh. The others were grinning; Jean-Luc wondered what about. He hadn’t been down to see the end result of Lwaxana’s efforts. It had been difficult enough to have her coming to dinner off and on. She had been enthusiastic about the job and two nights ago had regaled them about the fun she was having, being the hostess.

“I think she’s doing really well,” Neal said, tossing in a chip. “Call.”

“As long as it keeps her occupied. She was driving me crazy,” Deanna said. “I haven’t even told her what happened with Thomas this afternoon. She was too busy being upset that the lockdown kept her from decorating Ten Forward.”

“When you do, let me know, so I can be there when she pulls him out of stasis to beat him,” Beverly commented, sounding quite amused.

Deanna stared at the doctor.

“She’s protective, you know that,” Beverly exclaimed in response to the look. “I had plenty of time when you were down for the count to listen to her vent about all the ways she hoped Will was bound for suffering and paying for what he’d done. That was, of course, before we knew who it really was.”

“What did he do?” Will sounded angry and insistent. 

At that, Deanna threw down her cards and stood. “I’m going to bed,” she informed Jean-Luc, and waddled off, even putting a hand in the small of her back, exiting the holodeck.

Jean-Luc glared across the table. 

“Well, that was tactful,” Beverly exclaimed. “Did she answer your question adequately, or should I explain all the ways he was less tactful than you?”

“I’m sorry. She hasn’t talked to me about it. I thought…. Things were getting better.”

“They are, but she’s pregnant -- I guess talking to pregnant women once in a while doesn’t cut it, when it comes to understanding what a pregnant woman goes through.” Beverly turned to Jean-Luc. “Is it getting worse?”

“Yes.” It didn’t matter what exactly she meant. The rash had spread, the soreness continued, her mood swings occurred more frequently, and she still thrashed in her sleep.

“I’m going to talk to her.” Beverly tossed down her cards and went after Deanna.

Jean-Luc noticed a look pass between Geordi and Neal, then Neal and Carmichael. Data called, then raised another twenty. Since he had a pair of fours and not much else, Jean-Luc folded, not feeling like bluffing. As the game ended with Neal raking in the pot with a pair of aces, Jean-Luc passed the deck to Data, who usually took the role of dealer in their poker games.

“I’m done for the night,” he said, rising, and caught the first officer again shooting a look at Neal. “Something wrong, Geordi?”

“No, sir,” Geordi exclaimed. 

“You tend to depart not long after Deanna, most of the time,” Data said.

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow at it, and turned to go. “Good night, see you all in the morning.”

As he left the lift on deck eight, Beverly was leaving his quarters. “She’s fine,” she said as they came together and halted in the corridor. “Very tired, and I don’t think she’s telling me everything, but physically she is much improved over this time last week. I offered her other things to deal with the soreness but she hesitates to do anything else because of the baby. I don’t blame her, not wanting to take any more risks at all, given what she’s been through.”

“Thank you. Good night, Beverly.”

Deanna had started to run hot water for a bath when he found her in the bathroom. She was pulling off the blue wrap dress and kicking off her shoes. Her belly was getting rounder and larger by the day, he thought, and the rash looked terrible, blotches of red scattered across her skin like continents on a map. She looked at him with tired eyes as she drew her fingers through her hair to loosen it from the braid she’d had it in. 

“I’m sorry about Will,” he said, not knowing what else to do about that. 

“I haven’t told him about the things Thomas said to me because he doesn’t need to know. All it will do is make him furious for no reason.”

“Will doesn’t know you so well as he thinks, does he?” Jean-Luc watched her step into the tub as the computer stopped the water. “I had almost decided that Thomas was as demanding and prone to bad assumptions as he was, simply because he was pretending to be Will, and uninformed. But Will doesn’t apparently get it either -- he was surly, about Worf. And he’s being a bit dense about how all of this has affected you.”

She lowered herself into the tub slowly, leaning back along the sloped back rest. “He doesn’t have to understand everything, does he? Are you coming in?”

He stripped and climbed in with her, facing her, resting his arm and hand along her shin. He thought about her refusal to discuss how she had guessed what Thomas was doing, how to stop him, and why she might be so unwilling to talk about it. Her foot moved to his hip, sliding up his ribs to his shoulder, dislodging his hand.

“I know you, Jean-Luc. I know what being a captain means. I’m a psychologist and I enjoy my work -- I don’t want to do your work.”

He gazed across the steaming water at her -- hair draped over the edge of the tub, head resting on the edge, her eyes half-lidded as she tilted her head and considered him calmly. He thought about everything he’d talked about with her over the years. Everything that had happened to her, around her, to her friends. He thought about the way his heart had stopped when, in the seconds Thomas had been lunging toward her and she had moved in her defense, he had thought she might start to fight as she had been trained to fight -- using mok’bara. There was no way to know how Thomas might have reacted, or how badly she might have been hurt. Or how the baby might have suffered for it.

Jean-Luc sat up, put his hand on her belly, and smiled, rubbing his thumb over her navel. “Would you rather stay aboard, or find a home?”

The ends of her mouth curled up slightly. A Cheshire smile. “I would like to find a home. At least for a while. Take a break from being in the line of fire.”

“Would you like a home on Betazed? Or somewhere else?”

“I liked the one on the bluff, in Marin.”

Jean-Luc leaned to brush his fingers down her cheek. “The one with the yard full of flowers?”

“The one with no neighbors for several miles in either direction, and a transparent aluminum ceiling in the master bedroom.”

His smile became rather more enthusiastically pleased. “Then I shall make it so.”

\------------------

“Admiral,” called out a vaguely-familiar voice. Jean-Luc turned to find that a Romulan was approaching. As she drew closer, he smiled.

“Admiral,” he said, noting the change in uniform and insignia. “It’s been a while.”

“Two and a half years, in fact -- in Earth time,” she said with a smile. “I had heard you took a promotion shortly after we worked together, in finding the fugitive Thomas Riker.”

He shook the hand she extended. “I heard you went on to pursue and capture a number of terrorists belonging to the same group, and received a promotion as a result. Congratulations. Is this your first time on Earth?”

“Yes, it is. I met today with some of your fellow admirals, which is why I brought the uniform, however, I’m traveling to see other worlds of the Federation. I reached Earth just yesterday.”

“Then you must allow me to welcome you to our world -- would you join us for dinner tonight? Deanna would enjoy seeing you again.”

Toreth’s eyes went wide, and her chin dropped. “It was your child, wasn’t it?”

“Well, yes.”

He turned as Toreth came alongside and walked with him. A cadet running headlong on the sidewalk dodged past them. She turned to glance at him. “So this is Starfleet Academy. What is your position here?”

“I’m the superintendent -- essentially, it’s my school to run. We have several thousand students, and more at the annexes on other worlds.”

“It is an amazing place. Admiral Jameson suggested that I come walk the grounds -- it looks like a garden, not a school for soldiers.”

“I prefer to think of it as a school for future explorers and diplomats,” he commented, staring down a handful of cadets trotting across the grass and through some flower beds. He slowed, pointing, and the errant cadets returned to the nearby sidewalk, glancing back at him with lowered heads. “However, they do learn to fight, out of necessity. It would be naive to think we can send them into the galaxy without such skills and have them come home again.”

He took her to the transporter room in the main administration building. “This is how I commute. Home is some distance away, across the bay.” He nodded to the attendant, who needed no specific instruction.

When they materialized on the deck overlooking the ocean, the sun was dropping lower in the sky -- days were shorter, in fall. He watched Toreth take a few steps toward the railing and look down, down, at the cliffs below, the rocks rising jagged from the waves rolling in -- the ongoing roar and sigh of the water was the only sound. 

“This is home,” Toreth said, turning to gaze at him in wonder. 

He smiled, gestured at the house. “For now.”

Deanna opened the sliding one-way transparent aluminum doors, which glided silently in their tracks, and stepped out. She’d already changed into one of her flowing house dresses and let down her hair -- she worked at Starfleet Medical for part of the day, and came home shortly after lunch with the children. 

“Admiral Toreth was exploring the grounds. I invited her for dinner -- I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not! Come in and have a drink,” she exclaimed, stepping inside. 

Toreth followed her, and Jean-Luc followed their guest. A rapid patter of footfalls preceded Renee, racing with arms out to leap into her father’s arms. He bent to catch her and toss her gently up, and catch her against his chest. 

“This is Admiral Toreth,” he told her. 

Toreth smiled in delighted surprise -- not an expression he would have ever imaged, on the face of a Romulan. “What a lovely little girl.”

“Hopefully she continues to take after her mother.” He kissed the dark curls and set her down, and Renee loped across the wood floor to the open door, out on the deck, and as she reached the railing she reached out to tap the force field, which lit up briefly and vanished again. Giggling, she ran over to pick up the family cat, Kahless, who’d wandered outside. The gigantic leopard-spotted cat was almost too big, his paws dragging the floor fore and aft, but he let her carry him over to one of the sofas and flop down with him to pet and tickle him.

“What would you like to drink?” Deanna asked from the open kitchen. The open floor plan had been part of what had drawn her to the house -- the living area with a fireplace in one end, the kitchen a few broad steps up from it, the dining area on an enclosed patio just above, and at the far end a library with one clear wall looking out toward the Pacific. The bedrooms were below and behind, the stairwell accessed from back corner of the living area. There were three smaller bedrooms and the master bedroom, with plenty of space to add another if they wanted.

As the three of them settled around the fireplace, drinks in hand, another person beamed in on the deck. The woman turned and came inside, and Renee ran to greet Beverly with a squeal. 

“You should go get Rafaelle,” Deanna said. “He’s waking up.”

“You have another child?” Toreth exclaimed.

Jean-Luc set his drink on an end table and did as he was told -- there were no admirals in this house. He smiled at Beverly, coming inside with Renee in her arms, and circled behind the long curved sofa to the stairs, heading down to the bedrooms. Second door on the right was the nursery, and Raffy was in his crib. He gave a broad toothless grin at the sight of his father’s face and kicked both feet excitedly. 

“Look, you’d better sleep tonight. We have guests and then Papa’s going to expect a little cooperation -- you get your mother a lot more than I do, and it’s just not fair.” 

He should have known better -- by the time he got back with the baby, Deanna had already made plans to take Toreth on a tour of San Francisco. Her voice carried down the stairs; they were planning stops. Beverly was suggesting a visit to the art museum, stopping mid-sentence at the sight of the baby. Of course, the conversation turned to babies -- he had to hand over Raffy, and pick up his drink while Auntie Beverly greeted him with big eyes and grin. Toreth had Renee sitting with her, already; she was fascinated by their visitor.

Kahless leaped up on the back of the sofa and stuck his tail in the air, rrrrrrrrowling for attention. Jean-Luc gave the beast a head scratch in the name of diplomacy. The animal was for the children, and keeping it docile and accustomed to being handled was in their best interests. 

“What animal is this?” Toreth asked.

“He’s a cat. A pet, for Renee,” Deanna said. “Data gave him to us for Renee’s first birthday.”

“I’m going to check messages,” Jean-Luc said, pointing in the direction of the library. “I’ll be right back.”

He heard their laughter all the way there, and their voices were carrying clearly. Renee asked if Toreth was a Vulcan, and he got to hear the Romulan explain patiently that Romulans are related to Vulcans. The many headers on the monitor were mostly from other admirals, or offers of paid speaking engagements, and one from Marie asked him if they would be visiting soon, as she had some questions about whether he would like to sell some of the acreage and she wanted to see the children. There were messages from Geordi, now in command of the Enterprise, and Will, back on the Titan. He got a confirmation from Data that the android was returning to Earth after lecturing at universities on Vulcan and Andoria, among others. Nothing that needed immediate response. 

Jean-Luc looked up as the sun glowed orange on the horizon, streamers of cirrus turning vermillion, a dark red line along the ocean where it met the sky, and smiled. He rose to return to the living area. 

Deanna replicated traditional French dishes for Toreth’s sake -- she usually preferred lighter fare -- and opened some of the wine from the Picard vineyards. Since Beverly lived in San Francisco proper, at the end of the evening she contacted the transporter station near her house to take Toreth back to her hotel. Jean-Luc put Rafaelle and Renee down for the night after changing him, reading both of them a story in Renee’s room. They were both out and drooling. Kahless curled up on the end of Renee’s bed, though the cat would be prowling around the house most of the night.

He shut the door of the master bedroom. “Dee?”

She emerged from the bathroom, the light going out behind her, in her usual night attire -- nothing at all. Two children later, she’d gained a little weight, but maintained an active exercise regimen so wasn’t overweight. Shapely, he thought, watching her approach him with a happy light in her eyes.

“That was a nice surprise. Toreth has relaxed a lot -- not unlike someone else I know. What mischief are you up to, my dear admiral?”

“I wanted to discuss with you a matter of timing.”

She tilted her head, mischief curving her lips. Putting her arms around his neck, leaning on him, she kissed him, thoroughly.

A thump at the door behind him was followed by a faint meow. 

“Go away, cat,” he said softly, putting his arms around her waist.

“We can use the noise dampener,” she said. “Come on over here. Let me have this uniform -- there’s a husband in here somewhere.”

“I wanted to see,” he began, as she peeled his jacket off, “what you had in mind. If you had met the required number of children, or if you were planning to -- “

“Not just yet. Let’s let the ones we have get a little older. Is that all right?”

“Of course. Just checking.”

She paused, hands on his shoulders, now bare. “Are you telling me something?”

“Not at all. There are things I believe are best left in your control, that’s all.”

Deanna gazed into his eyes. For a moment he wondered, as he had a number of times, whether she might be more telepathic than she let on. But she smiled and slid her hands down to work on unfastening his pants. 

“I like to think we make decisions together. Have you been humoring me all this time, then?”

“Oh, no. There are things that matter less to me -- and things like this house, it’s easy to just trust your judgment in such things as you’ve had excellent taste.” He glanced up at the ceiling -- the Milky Way stretched out overhead, from one corner of the ceiling to the other, and he smiled, thinking about all the parts of the galaxy he’d been in.

Deanna stepped closer, leaning on his shoulder, and looked up with him. “I love our adventures together,” she whispered. 

“Yes, the adventure of the lost baby bottle has a quite different appeal than making first contact on Beta Magnus IX, but I’m very much appreciating it just the same. Then there’s the exploration of the twin worlds, Mammary I and II, and plunging into the black hole of Vulva Major -- “

“You’d think it had been weeks,” she said, amusement tinging her voice.

“Actually, it has. I put in an appeal to the little monster for a reprieve. I hope that, any day, his receptive language skills -- “

“Hold that thought.” Deanna kissed his cheek and unlocked the door, heading out into the hall. He heard the baby crying, distantly.

“Yes, well,” he muttered, kicking his pants aside and going to get in bed, to lay there counting the stars he recognized. He sighed, thinking about the day Rafaelle was born, and smiled.


End file.
